


The Rebel's Ascension (SFW Chapters)

by InArlathan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Drama, Drug Use, Elvhen Lore, Elvhen Pantheon, Elvhenan, Elvhenan Culture and Customs, Eventual Romance, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Murder, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InArlathan/pseuds/InArlathan
Summary: This is a collection of adapted SFW chapters for "The Rebel's Ascension". You can find the main workhere
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 10: Bloody Blessings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [« Previous chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/chapters/64150375)

> _ -4,600 Ancient _

On his way back to Arlathan, all Solas could think about was Felani’s kiss. He couldn’t quite believe that it was a real memory, not just another feverish dream. To finally feel her lips on his own had been the sweet culmination of all the little moments in which she had captivated his mind and body during these past few months. It made him wonder how long she had been sensing the reflections of his feelings for her in the Beyond while they trained. He certainly hadn’t picked up any of her emotions in return. Then again, he had been too enraptured to notice. And when she had bowed down to kiss him, all he could do was to feel her warmth beneath his fingers and savor the sweet taste of her in his mouth.

Luckily, Felani had shown the restraint he no longer had, pulling away the moment he was about to lose himself entirely. “Not here,” she had breathed, glancing at the tents near the training ground where the Sun Soldiers and their recruits slept. “I will come to you,” she’d said and had kissed him one last time. “I promise.” 

It had cost Solas what precious little self-control he’d had left to let her go. Of course he knew that it hadn’t been the right time or place for love-making but, sweet skies, it had been the hardest thing he had ever done. His body kept aching for her even after he’d had a cold bath that was meant to help him think straight. His mind still wandered off, conjuring up the memory of her touching him. He’d felt more alive with her than he ever had since he had made his Passage.

He dried his hair and wove it into a single braid that fell over one shoulder, then dressed in a tight-fitting tunic, leggings, and a wool coat. After a look in the mirror and making sure he was somewhat presentable, he hurried up the steps to the top-level of Mythal’s tower. A spirit of diligence was already preparing the All-Mother’s breakfast on a small side table by the main entrance. Solas thanked the spirit and picked up the plate. In drawing energy from the Beyond, he made sure that Mythal had already awoken before he entered her private chambers.

She was sitting in her study, commanding a quill with her magic to hastily jot down her thoughts. Her silvery hair was open and flowed freely down her shoulders and back like quicksilver. She hadn’t even bothered to change her robes and still wore the dark blue nightgown she used to sleep in.

“Good morning,” she said without looking up when Solas entered the study and set the plate with the breakfast on a nearby table. The quill didn’t waver.

“Urgent news from the front?” he asked.

“Yes.” Mythal’s voice grew dark with concern. “Elgar’nan has led his vanguard deeper into the Earth to push back the advance of the enemy. They have made camp in a large cavern two days ago and are now exploring the corridors. The Children of the Stone are sending troops to harass our soldiers every few hours, but in the narrow tunnels, they lose the advantage of superior numbers. Still, there are only a few of our soldiers left to fight. Many are injured or scared out of their wits and can not continue. If we don’t end this war soon, countless lives will be lost.”

Solas swallowed hard. Imagining the dark roads beneath the Earth crawling with enemy forces wasn’t a pleasant thought, to say the least. 

_ How terrible it must be for those down there… _

“Lucky for us, it seems like Ghilan’nain’s help is more valuable than we thought,” Mythal added. “Her creations have given our soldiers an edge in the fight against the Stonechildren. We should keep an eye on her once all of this is over.”

“Agreed,” Solas said and paused. How long since he had written that letter to Geldauran? It must have been months since he’d sent it to the front and he had never heard back from the healer. 

“I don’t suppose you have received word from Geldauran?” he asked cautiously. 

Mythal’s eyebrow arched, but she didn’t lift her gaze to look at Solas. “It seems he’s been doing a good job of keeping the soldiers alive this far. But considering the great numbers of our enemy, more and more elvhen need to be committed into Falon’Din’s care. In the Eternal Dream, they can find some rest at least.”

“I see,” Solas mused, lost in thought. 

A few moments of silence fell between them before Mythal sighed softly and let the quill drop into the ink fountain. She stretched and leaned back in her chair, her long pale fingers resting gingerly on its arms. Despite the shadows beneath her eyes that seemed to get darker with every passing day, the expression on her face was caught somewhere between astonishment and amusement.

“Well, look at you,” Mythal remarked and flashed a knowing smile at him. “Did you finally work up the courage to tell Felani you like her?”

Solas felt his jaws go tense, but the sensation subsided quickly. He should have expected that Mythal had already traced his flustered feelings in the Beyond. He wouldn’t put it past her to have known about his affection for Felani the moment he had told her about his plan to train with her.

“I–” He paused. “Well, it turned out that I didn’t have to tell her at all. She was already aware.”

Mythal laughed at that. “She’s a woman after my own heart.”

“She has an admirable spirit,” Solas agreed, hurrying to fetch a carafe of water for the All-Mother. “And she is a skilled warrior. I could not ask for a finer teacher.”

Mythal’s gaze remained fixed on Solas as he poured her a cup of water and set it down on the desk. She thanked him again and put her hands up, her fingertips touching in an inquisitive gesture.

“Do you love her?” she asked.

Solas felt heat rising in him, flushing his cheeks. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted. “There is certainly a strong attraction between us, but if it is more than that, I can not say.”

“Whatever it is, I’m happy for you. It was about time you took interest in something other than your duty. Besides, sex is one of the main benefits of having a physical body. You should enjoy it as often as you can.”

“I’m… I don’t know what to say,” he said hoarsely, trying to conceal the wave of embarrassment that washed over him.

“I never thought I’d live to see you speechless,” Mythal replied with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t pry into your romantical endeavors any longer. What happens between the two of you is your personal business. But I hope you enjoy the time you spent with her. You deserve some happiness.”

“Thank you,” Solas said, straightening his shoulders. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

The All-Mother rose from her chair and pulled the nightgown tighter. “Shivanas laid out the green robes in my bedroom last night, I think. Please fetch them for me so I can get dressed after breakfast. And please tell Faith that I’m ready to see the candidates. They shall wait in the Hall of Contemplation. I will meet them as soon as possible. And I’d love to have you there with me. Your personal assessment will be a valuable asset.”

“Of course,” Solas said and hurried to fulfill her requests.

* * *

After months of preparation, Mythal’s spell was almost ready to be cast. The formula was stable, the magic tried and tested. June and his smiths had finished the enchantments on the so-called anchor stones and had safely installed them in dedicated places Mythal had marked on a map for them. Now, there were only two things left to do to make her plan work. 

One would be for Mythal to ready herself to draw as much energy from the Beyond as possible to fuel her spell. The other were the three hundred candidates that awaited the All-Mother’s arrival in the Hall of Contemplation. A number of them would be chosen to pour energy into the anchor stones while Mythal cast her spell. But first, their control of the Beyond needed to be tested.

All of the candidates were elvhen who had made their Passage about a century ago. A sufficient enough time for them to master their magic, yet not too long a period to have lost their will to prove themselves. Their eagerness and their passion for power were valuable tools, provided both were put to good use. In giving them an honorable task, the All-Mother would ensure that they served the People to the best of their abilities. 

Solas and Faith – the spirit who had been responsible for choosing and recruiting the candidates – saw to the young elvhen while they waited. Some were very quiet and prayed before the Vhenadahl to focus their mind. Others controlled their nervousness by chatting and showering Solas and the spirit with questions. While Solas talked with them, telling them about the centuries he had spent training with Mythal, he realized that many of his brethren never got to know the All-Mother as intimately as he had. It reminded him that he enjoyed the privilege of being in Mythal’s good graces. Still, many of the elvhen that were gathered in the hall showed remarkable focus and restraint – qualities that would be useful once the ritual to raise Arlathan into the air had begun. 

When Mythal finally entered the Hall of Contemplation, the mood in the room shifted and the nervousness of the candidates transformed into grim sincerity. They turned to the entrance and squared their shoulders, then stood at parade rest. 

“My friends,” Mythal said and let her gaze wander over the gathered crowd. “It is a pleasure to welcome you here.” She made a grand gesture that seemed to enclose not only the hall but all of Arlathan. “I won’t bore you with a long-winded explanation. You already know why you were summoned here.” With that, her eyes flicked to Faith who had chosen the candidates gathered in the hall due to their strong belief in the dream of Elvhenan and the All-Mother’s work. “Today I will assess each one of you to see if you really are as capable as I hear.”

Mythal walked slowly towards the candidates, her hands clasped before her, and told them about the spell she had crafted. While she spoke, none of the elvhen dared to make a sound. It was as if they were all holding their breaths out of fear to miss a single syllable of Mythal’s speech. Even Solas who had help with the creation of the spell found himself captivated by her words.

“Seventy of you will be chosen,” she explained, “to charge the anchor stones with energy from the Beyond during the ritual. Then, and only then, the magic will gain a foothold in the Waking World and keep the city afloat.”

Mythal stopped in front of the crowd and took a moment to look several of the elvhen in the eyes. 

“But that is not where your duty will end,” she continued. “Once the city is secured, you will be known as Sentinels, proud protectors of Arlathan. Your hard work will ensure the safety of the People for the ages to come. This is not a commitment taken lightly and those who would rather not shoulder such a grave responsibility are free to go. I promise there will be no repercussions for leaving. The only thing I ask is that you put your abilities to good use and serve your brethren as well as they serve you.”

An eerie silence filled the room. Solas watched the candidates closely as they cast nervous side-glances at each other. Some were plagued by uncertainty but none dared to walk away.

“Very well,” Mythal said after a while. “Let us begin.”

Faith started calling the candidates and the elvhen stepped forward one by one to be examined by the All-Mother. They bowed their heads and waited while Mythal sized them up carefully. Solas, watching from a place by the Vhenadahl, could feel his mistress draw energy from the skies to assess each candidate carefully. Her eyes gleamed as she let herself shift back into the realm of spirits, her mind all but detaching itself from her body. At one point, the magic around her whirled and became visible as a pale green mist that formed a ghostly reflection of Mythal’s dragon wings. He could hear several of the candidates gasp as the wings unfolded and send a gust of wind in every direction. Solas, however, was not so easily shaken. While the All-Mother assessed each candidate, he focussed on the remaining elvhen and examined their posture, their expressions, and their emotions. 

Their admiration for the All-Mother was palpable but there were many among the candidates who also feared her. It was an old and very potent feeling, and also a dangerous one. As one of the three primal emotions, fear had the power to drive anyone out of their right mind and twist even the most skilled elvhen against their own purpose.

Solas made a mental note of all the candidates in which he detected a kernel of fear. He let Mythal know what he found with a quick glance when Faith called the respective elvhen to step forward. And each time, his vallaslin tingled and she nodded to show that she understood. 

And so the hours passed as Mythal chose the few best suited to become Sentinels. Those not chosen, she sent to Daern’thal and Sylaise and asked them to help their elders with the evacuation of the city. When she had finally picked the seventy elvhen who would aid her during her ritual, the sunlight was already fading.

The Sentinels fell to their knees and invoked Mythal’s name like a blessing and the All-Mother smiled solemnly while she watched them. “The People will owe you their safety,” she told them. “You shall receive a boon in return.” 

The elvhen lifted their faces to look at the All-Mother. Their hope and longing sent gentle ripples through the Beyond.

“For your loyalty and your labor, I will give you my protection,” Mythal said. “Through the vallaslin, we will be bound to each other and together we will accomplish marvelous things.” 

She smiled at the Sentinels like a well-meaning mother encouraging her children. Pride flushed her cheeks and made her seem more at ease than she had been in months.

Mythal glanced at Faith, wordlessly signaling the spirit to bring her a ritual knife. The spirit bowed and presented her the blade on a small blue cushion. She took the knife and examined it for a moment before she turned to the first Sentinel. They raised their chin, the forehead and cheeks exposed. The All-Mother smiled again, then cut her palm with the blade. Solas could feel her pull on the Beyond as she entwined its energy with the magic in her blood. Then Mythal placed her bleeding hand on the Sentinel’s forehead and wove her power into their body.

And so the All-Mother went on to mark each elvhen with her vallaslin, gifting them with words of wisdom. When she was done, they stood before her like a small army graced with lines of white blood writing on their faces.

“In seven days, we will change the world forever,” she said and her voice echoed from the stone walls of the hall like the toll of a bell, “and when we are done, the People will be safe once more.”

* * *

Night had fallen when Solas finally returned to his chambers. 

After the ceremony in which Mythal had granted the Sentinels her protection, she had given him and the other servants a whole cascade of orders in preparation for the lifting of Arlathan. Solas himself had seen to it that all Sentinels were outfitted with armor to wear during the All-Mother’s ritual, while Faith, Diligence, and the other servants had prepared their new accommodations in the tower. After that, they all had been running errands to aid with the evacuation. Solas helped coordinate the efforts to extend the encampment outside the city to shelter all elvhen while the All-Mother severed the earthly ties of Arlathan. All the while, he hoped to catch a glimpse of Felani but the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen. She was undoubtedly busy helping June to make a few last-minute adjustments to the enchantments on the anchor stones now that they were set in place.

Still, he felt disappointed when she didn’t come to see him that night. When he lay down to rest, his heart pounded heavily in his chest and his mind raced despite his exhaustion. To calm his thoughts, he watched the soft streaks of moonlight wandering across the walls of his bed-chamber. The night would have been peaceful if not for the lack of music and laughter and the soft rippling of emotion usually caused by the thousands of people in the city. For the first time in centuries, he was truly alone. No, not alone.  _ Lonely.  _ He had almost forgotten what that felt like. Since Geldauran and his brothers had taken him to Arlathan to learn the ways of the People, there had always been someone to keep him company. And he, in turn, had grown so accustomed to spending his life with the People that he had never cared to think about what it meant if they were gone.

He reminded himself of all the days he’d spent in Geldauran’s hall, caring for the injured there, and his time in the Vir Dirthara to further his understanding of magic. It was a mere collection of small moments, but together they gave greater meaning to his life. With that thought firmly in his head, he closed his eyes and let go of his feelings. Soon after, his mind slipped into dreamless sleep.

Six more days passed before Felani finally came to the tower to see him. 

Solas had just left Mythal after checking on her one last time before bed when a spirit of duty came to find him and inform him of her arrival.

“You have a visitor,” it told him. “She said that you have been waiting for her.”

Solas paused, regarding the spirit carefully. 

“Please bring her up to my chambers,” he said. “I’ll see her straight away.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Duty said and bowed ever so slightly before hurrying away. Solas stared at the door through which the spirit had vanished. After the first night waiting for Felani to come to him, Solas had tried not to think about it and had instead buried himself in his work. He hadn’t even dared to show up for his training with her to avoid any awkwardness between them. Instead, he had sent word to her that Mythal needed his help more urgently than ever. Now it was only a matter of moments before he saw her again. 

Only moments until …

He felt his heart jump into his throat and he hurried to the bathroom to clean his face and straighten his robes. When he was sure that he didn’t look too disheveled, he used his magic to activate the motes and fill his chambers with soft warm light.

Only a few seconds seemed to have passed when he heard Felani and Duty approaching. The blacksmith was chatting casually with the spirit, trying to make it laugh despite its sober nature. Solas inhaled deeply and cleared his mind of wistful thoughts, then went to open the door. 

Suddenly, his mouth was very dry.

Felani wore a silk robe that perfectly accentuated the sharp curves of her body. The fabric was deep red, interwoven with gold threads along the hems, and revealed more than it concealed. It would have left little room for imagination if it hadn’t been for the black embroidered coat that she had put on as well, held in place by a broad leather belt around her waist.

“Hello,” Solas said hoarsely. 

A smile tugged at her lips. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”

He cleared his throat and forced himself to look at Duty. “If you could please bring us some refreshments, my friend. I would be in your debt.”

“Certainly,” the spirit replied. 

“Thank you.”

While Duty floated back down the stairs, Solas led Felani into his chambers. “Your taste in furnishing is much more austere than I expected,” she mused as she looked around the rooms, then stopped by one of the stained-glass windows in the main chamber. “The view is exceptional, though. I bet on a clear day you can see all the way to the ocean from here.”

Solas took a moment to regard Felani again. The silk robes weren’t the only thing that made her stunning. Her raven hair was pinned up in an intricate style and she had painted her face with just enough color to emphasize her best features. If she had been beautiful in her training suit, she was now absolutely breathtaking.

“It’s quite the view, indeed,” he said in a small voice.

Felani’s amber eyes gleamed when she turned to look at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” she said and secured a small strand of loose hair behind her ear, “but June had us work double-shifts. Some help for Daern’thal and his lot so the city won’t crumble once the All-Mother casts her spell. I didn’t even have the time to answer your letter.”

“It’s nothing,” Solas said with a dismissive gesture. “Please don’t worry about it.”

Felani let a moment of silence fall between them, then nodded towards the wall behind him. “You never mentioned that you’re a painter.”

Solas glanced over his shoulder at the mural he’d started painting about a year ago. The base colors were all applied and some of the details added, but he had never bothered to return to work once the earthquakes that threatened Arlathan had begun. The image showed the churning skies and the crystal towers that would one day be the landmarks of Arlathan he’d seen in the vision Mythal had shared with him. He’d already sketched the shapes of dragons circling the sky above the city.

Felani walked over to him, her gaze still fixed on the painting. 

“Elvhenan,” she whispered. “I’d almost forgotten what it looked like.”

The white lines of June’s vallaslin on her face shimmered like mother-of-pearl in the soft light of the motes. He’d always assumed that Felani was much older than him. Not just because of her skill with a blade, but for her close relationship with the Master of Crafts. Still, she had never talked about when or why she had come into June’s service, just like he’d never told her about his paintings. They still had so much to learn about each other despite the time they had spent together.

“I hope you get to finish it,” she said and reached out with one hand to trace the outline of a building. “It is quite beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Felani looked at him for a long moment before a smile spread across her face. “Aren’t you particularly charming tonight?” she remarked playfully.

“I only seek to speak the truth,” he said and clasped his hands behind his back.

He was almost relieved when Duty made itself known with a pulse of energy in the Beyond. He opened the door again and took a silverite plate from the spirit laden with a carafe of water, a bottle of wine, four crystal goblets, and a bowl of fresh fruits. He thanked the spirit for its help.

“Do you want me to wake you in the morning?” the spirit asked. “Or will you skip your training session again?”

Solas told Duty that he wouldn’t be needing its help, bid the spirit goodnight and closed the door behind him. He set the plate on a low table among the chairs and sofas in the main chamber and began to pour drinks for both Felani and himself. 

When he looked up again, she had loosened the belt on her robes and had stripped off the black cloak. The fabric rustled softly when she tossed it over one of the chairs. 

Felani smiled, undoubtedly amused by Solas’s wide-eyed stare, then walked over to him to pluck a few grapes from the fruit bowl. She ate them one by one, watching him carefully as he handed her a goblet filled with ruby-red wine.

Solas took his glass. “What are we drinking to?”

“I don’t know,” Felani said and tilted her head slightly. “How about unexpected pleasures?”

“Very well,” Solas replied and felt a knot tighten in his throat. “To unexpected pleasures.”

She raised her glass in a toast. Solas brought the goblet to his lips to take a sip but paused midway when Felani downed her drink in one long swig. She sighed, savoring the rich taste of the wine for a tiny moment, then put her goblet down. 

“That was splendid,” she said and wiped her lips with one hand. 

He was still trying to find the right words for a witty reply when she took his own goblet out of his hand and set it down on the table as well. “You won’t be needing that,” she told him and reached out to him. Before he knew it, he could feel her breath on his face and her arms around his shoulders. His heart leaped in his chest.

“We both know why I’m here,” she said softly, her lips brushing tenderly against his. “No need to act restrained anymore.”

Solas looked at her for a long moment and let one hand slip around her neck. Beneath his thumb, he could feel her pulse racing. He let his mind dip into the Beyond and sensed an excitement radiating off her that matched his own. It made every fiber in his body go tense with anticipation.

“I agree,” he breathed.

Felani’s lips met his, warm and welcoming, and for a moment he only sensed the delicate movements of her mouth and the heat of her body. Solas let his hands settle on the small of her back and drew her closer. His heart began pounding heavily as he felt her stomach and breasts press against him through the fabric of her robe. Felani’s lips parted, urging him to do the same. He sighed softly when her tongue teased him and his mouth filled with the taste of fine wine, spiced honey and _ … her.  _ Just her.

After what felt like an eternity, Felani pulled back so they both could catch their breath.

“You have no idea how often I dreamed about this,” he said with his eyes half-closed and allowed his hands to wander along the lines of her hips and bottom. “I wanted you so much. I still do.”

Felani smiled, telling him without words that she indeed had a good idea about the nature of his dreams. She took his lower lip between her teeth and bit him gently. “We should get you out of these clothes, then.”

“I must admit,” she murmured after a moment of consensual silence, “you were not what I expected.”

He blinked at her. “How so?”

She propped her head on one hand and looked at him. Her cheeks were still flushed from the heat of their love-making, but there was an earnestness in her eyes Solas had not seen before.

“When I first met you I thought you were nothing but a terrible loudmouth,” she said. “A good-looking one, sure, but still a loudmouth. I thought I was being clever, tempting you. Just another challenge. I was never good at resisting those.”

Solas frowned, unsure what to say. 

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked cautiously.

“I just want you to know that all of this comes with no obligations,” she said and laid a hand on his stomach. “We’re just having fun. No strings attached.“

“I wasn’t going to ask for your hand in marriage if that’s what you’re afraid of,” Solas said and tried to make it sound like a joke.

Felani sighed heavily and rolled away from him, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

“What is it that troubles you so much?” he asked. 

She drew in long breaths, choosing her words carefully before she spoke again.

“I was Ambition once,” she said, her voice thick with melancholy, “until June brought me before the All-Father. Elgar’nan told me that I had been drawn to this world by his son’s persistence to create new marvels and that my abilities would bring glory to the People. He also warned me that I would carry a deep longing to prove myself and that life would be harder once I was one of the elvhen. I only pretended to listen. I was too eager to learn from June. I wanted to be able to reshape the world like he did. But when I awoke after my Passage, I finally realized what the All-Father meant.”

“I see,” Solas muttered and thought back to his first encounter with Felani. She had told him then that she was different, but he hadn’t cared to think about what she’d meant by that. Now he understood that her focus and determination were the result of her struggle to reign in her own nature. 

She gave him a sardonic smile. “Sometimes I envy the other smiths. They are content with their creations, taking joy in helping. But when the work is done, they go home to their loved ones. But I… Sometimes I feel like I can’t help myself. I lie awake at night, my head spinning with ideas. Everything that feels old bores me. I don’t want to be bound apart from the bond that I share with June. I don’t want to be stuck in the same place, doing the same things, over and over again. All I want is to see what I can do if I push myself hard enough.”

“And that is why you truly offered to train me,” Solas concluded. “You tried to seduce me only to see if you could.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I’m sorry. You are a good man and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Solas stared at her for a long moment.

“I thank you for your honesty,” he said. 

“That’s the least I can do,” she said and brushed away the tears that had begun to gather in the corners of her eyes. “Sweet skies, I’m such a fool sometimes.”

“No,” Solas said and pulled her closer again, forcing her to look at him. “I’ve seen fools and you’re not one. Because despite your flaws, you own up to them. And as you said, I’m not without failings, too. It would be cruel of me to uphold you to a standard that I can’t live up to myself.”

“You’re too kind, Solas.”

“And you are too hard on yourself.”

She huffed a sad laugh. “Is that truly what you think?”

“Your motives to spend time with me might not have been entirely pure or selfless,” he said, “but they hardly matter given that they are no longer important to you. Why else would you tell me about them?”

“True,” she said.

“I’d like us to be friends,” Solas said and pressed his forehead against hers, “and lovers, occasionally, if that is what you want. I’d rather have it this way then see you leave forever because you feel stuck.”

She slipped one hand around his neck, a shy smile on her lips. “I’d like that,” she whispered. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then there’s nothing left to say,” he said and kissed her once more.

* * *

Felani left just before sunrise to be back at the camp with June and the other smiths before the ritual began. Solas rose with her to kiss her good-bye, then began readying himself for the great day.

He put on a set of light armor not unlike the outfits that had been prepared for the Sentinels. The armor only served a ceremonial purpose as Solas was merely responsible for coordinating the Sentinels’ efforts during the spell, but thanks to his training with Felani, he didn’t feel like he was putting on a costume. The golden plates shimmering in the morning sun seemed appropriate for such an important day.

When he entered Mythal’s chambers, the All-Mother was surrounded by three servants who helped her into her own set of armor. Hers was much heavier than his, with pauldrons in the shape of dragon wings and thick plates covering most of her body. One of the servants willed the All-Mothers white hair into a cascade of braids, entwined them, and magically fixed them on the top of Mythal’s head. 

“That’ll be all,” Mythal said once she was fully dressed. “Now leave the city and see to the needs of the people in the camp.”

The servants bowed and went to do the All-Mother’s bidding. 

Mythal flashed a smile at Solas’s reflection in the mirror while she regarded herself one last time. “How do I look?”

“Formidable,” he said. “There’s no better word for it.”

“Hm,” she mused and tested the ties on her gloves. Then she turned to Solas. “How do you feel?”

“How  _ I  _ feel?” he asked, perplexed. “My feelings are of no importance on a day such as this, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Such is the burden of being a mother,” she said and made a vague gesture.

“You are mother to all elvhen,” he said, “and they need your care and attention more urgently than I do right now.”

Mythal sighed heavily. “I assume you are correct.”

Solas smiled at her, surprised that she would consider something so personal despite the difficulties she was about to face. It made him wonder if last night’s events had changed him in a way that he couldn’t deduce. The world didn’t seem different. The sun still rose in the East and the skies were still blue, but deep down he felt liberated as if he'd tapped into a power that he’d been unaware of. He would stand beside Mythal with an open heart while she cast her spell.

Mythal huffed and straightened her shoulders. With a grim expression on her face, she walked over to a table where one of the servants had placed a cushion. On it lay an orb of considerable size, its surface graced with curved lines. The artifact gave off a pale light, flickering blue and green and yellow as it drew energy from the Beyond.  _ A focus,  _ that was what she had called it when she had shown him the schematics for the artifact. Crafted by her own hand, the orb was perfectly attuned to her magic and would help her channel power into her spell.

“Let’s go,” Mythal said and took the orb in both hands.

The Sentinels awaited the All-Mother in the atrium of the tower along with Faith, Duty, and many more servants who had come to escort her on a predetermined route to the center of Arlathan. At the Place of Love, where she and Elgar’nan had agreed to Solas’s proposal to raise the city, a crowd had gathered. Among the spirits and elvhen were Sylaise, Anaris, Falon’Din, and June with their own servants. Even Daern’thal who liked to keep to himself had come to wish Mythal luck. 

As if queued to remind the People of the importance of the All-Mother’s ritual, the ground trembled beneath their feet.

“We mustn’t lose any more time,” she said.

The Sentinels invoked Mythal’s name, then scattered to take their posts by the anchor stones. Only Daern’thal and June along with their entourage remained in the city to fuel the runes that stabilized the buildings. Solas caught a glimpse of Felani who was clad in ceremonial armor like he was and who carried a two-handed blade on her back in honor of this day. They smiled at each other before he followed the Sentinels out of the city. Accompanied by Faith, he made sure all of them had taken their right place and were ready to offer Mythal their aid. 

A new eruption shook the ground, but it did no harm. The People had left the city, apart from the All-Mother and those who had agreed to secure the buildings. When the earthquake faded, Solas lifted his gaze. A dark spot appeared in the heavens, like a bird circling, but when he tapped into the power of the Beyond, he could feel Mythal’s presence. The All-Mother had shifted partly into her dragon form and her wings soaked up the sunlight.

The blood writing on his face tingled.

_ Be ready, _ he heard her whisper.

Solas steeled himself and squinted, not daring to look away while Mythal roamed the sky above Arlathan. 

And then it began. 

A pulse of energy coming down from the heavens, manifesting as a stream of green light as she connected her own power with the magic of the Beyond. It danced around Mythal like ribbons, then separated and tied the All-Mother’s focus to the anchor stones that surrounded the city. 

The wind picked up and drew the breath from Solas’s lungs as it pooled around the stones. The Sentinels recognized the signal and began pouring energy into the anchors themselves. Each one came alive with magic that captured the gathering storm. Bound into obedience, the power seeped into the Earth itself. A thundering crack followed and Solas felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He kneeled down, both hands flat on the ground, and let his mind wander deeper into the Beyond. For a moment, the Song that connected all of creation rang loud in his ears like a crescendo that drowned out every other sound. Then he opened his heart and mind to allow Mythal to draw from his power.

Bit by bit, Arlathan rose into the air. A small movement at first, barely noticeable from a distance. But as Mythal and her Sentinels continued to pour themselves to fuel the levitation spell, the foundations of the city detached from the Earth and its rivers became waterfalls. When she heard the churning roar of the waters, Mythal divided her attention to make the rivers pour into the Beyond as she had intended, where they would flow to refill the cistern beneath the city. 

Solas watched in awe while Arlathan was secured in the sky. Many others, spirits and elvhen, had come from the camp and had begun offering their magic to assist the All-Mother. For a moment, they were all of one mind, and Solas felt the same joy and fulfillment he had sensed the day Mythal had shown him her vision of Elvhenan. That was what he had been living for. The People, united for a common cause: the well-being of all.

The sun was high in the sky when Solas finally felt Mythal’s pull on his magic disperse. Arlathan, floating on a spearlike foundation, hung in the sky. Thin clouds danced around the buildings and obscured the top of the All-Mother’s tower. 

_ We did it, _ he thought with tears in his eyes. _ We really did it. _

He blinked when another flash of green light emitted from above. Around him, the gathered people gasped, some protecting their eyes with their hands. When the light faded, the streams of light that had connected Mythal’s focus with the anchor stones had disappeared. Instead, the Sentinels fueled the stones with magic directly, beginning their long watch over the city of Arlathan. 

The People cheered and jubilated when Mythal finally came down to be with them. In her armor and with her dragon wings unfolded, she looked like a goddess descending from another world. Her face was red and sweat had gathered above her brow, but apart from that, she seemed fine. Solas could feel her pride and confidence in the Beyond. She smiled broadly and bathed in the affection of her brethren.

“What is that?”

A single voice, loud and bewildered, disrupted the cheering around. Solas turned to see where it came from. 

Some elvhen had wandered off to the edge of the Earth where the city had been detached and stared into the abyss. Alarmed, Mythal went to meet them. Solas followed on her heels. The cliffs where the All-Mother’s spell had severed the earthly ties of Arlathan was steep. Beyond it lay a chasm of sharp and rocky edges and whispering waters that seemed to reach to the center of the Earth. But that was not all. Deep down there were streaks of blue light that pervaded the stone like veins and Solas could hear the Song flow through them.

“What is that?” he heard someone ask again, fearful this time.

Mythal’s brows furrowed. 

“Have you seen this before?” Solas asked her in a low voice to avoid being overheard.

“No, I–”

Her words were cut off by a deep groaning sound that erupted from the deep. Solas stumbled, barely able to stay on his feet. Even Mythal took a step back. When the silence returned, they all stared into the abyss once more. Among the glowing veins, tiny things began to move and crawl and claw their way up to the surface.

Mythal turned to her brethren with a dark expression on her face.

_ “Get ready!” _

Solas was disturbed by the sharpness in her voice. “What is happening?”

“The Children of the Stone,” Mythal said grimly. “I should have known.”

“What?” He gaped at her in horror. “How?”

Mythal didn’t answer.

“I need a weapon,” she shouted and a few elvhen ran to fetch the Sun Soldiers from the camp. Imras himself, clad in armor and wielding a warhammer, put a silverite sword in her hands while his recruits and comrades gave out weapons to every able-bodied elvhen they could find. They handed Solas a bloodstone blade embellished with fire enchantments. He thought of all the training sessions with Felani. “You can do this,” he told himself.

Solas heard stones falling as the enemy made its way to the surface. 

“Stay with me,” Mythal ordered him before she turned to the Sun Soldiers and gave orders for their formations. 

She positioned the archers along the cliffs and had them nock their arrows all at once. Those gifted in shapeshifting she ordered to transform in whatever bestial form they prefered. “As long as it has a sharp beak, paws or claws to fight with,” she said. The rest was grouped in smaller companies to guard the camp and those unable to join the fray.

June and Daern’thal came down from Arlathan in the form of the Divine, alarmed by the thundering echoes that erupted from the Earth. They joined the shapeshifters, readying themselves to let fire rain down on anything that would emerge from the deep. Sylaise, Falon’Din, and Anaris joined the People to strike down their enemies. The archers had already begun shooting arrows at the moving things in the abyss, their arrows making sharp hissing sounds as they soared through the air.

Solas felt a knot tighten in his throat. This was supposed to be a day of triumph, the end to suffering and uncertainty. Now he found himself shaken, blood rushing in his ears. 

He stood by Mythal’s side when the first creature crawled over the edge. A Child of the Stone clad in armor that shone like the blue veins in their ground. Solas swallowed hard as more and more of the creature’s brethren climbed over the cliffs. They made grunting sounds that could be mistaken for a language, but there was no way to know what they meant. 

Mythal unsheathed her blade, spread her wings and sent a blast of air towards the Stonechildren that made dozens of them tumble backwards into the abyss. But when the creatures kept crawling over the edge, she raised the sword high above her head.

“ATTACK!”

On Mythal’s command, fire and lightning rained from the sky as the elvhen fought back their enemies. They did all they could to hold the cliffs and prevent the Children of the Stone from walking the Earth. But no matter how many of them were killed, there seemed to be no end to them. It didn’t take long before the archers had already emptied their quivers and had to draw their blades, slashing and hacking at the Stonechildren that made it over the edge. 

Solas relied on his magic to repel the creatures that dared to come near the All-Mother. He showered them with shards of ice and encased them in walls of cold to stop their advance. Those who escaped his spells, he struck down with his blade while the sickening stench of blood filled his nostrils.

Mythal raised her voice, calling for a retreat when it was clear that they could not repel the onslaught.

The elvhen forces scrambled in an attempt to regroup further away from the cliffs. Solas followed them, climbing over corpses of Stonechildren and elvhen alike. Catching only glimpses of the mutilated bodies on the ground made his stomach turn. With a foul taste in his mouth, he staggered forward. The All-Mother conjured fire and darkness and struck out with her blade. Where she walked, the Children of the Stone cried out in pain and perished forever. Solas grasped the hilt of his sword tighter and followed her lead. 

Soon, he found himself surrounded by enemies advancing further inland. It was then that he noticed that the Stonechildren didn’t use magic of their own, although the Song echoed inside them. They relied purely on their weapons and pure superiority of their numbers to drive the People back. But there was more to it than that. They moved in clear patterns, guided by the Song inside them. Through it, they fought like a single entity that knew nothing but the desire to survive.

Solas brought his blade down on a creature that threatened him with an axe. Shock and terror pulsed through him, clearing him of conscious thought. He acted instinctively, trusting his magic and what Felani had taught him to save his life.

That was when something hit his back and passed clean through him. Thrown off balance by the blow, Solas stumbled and fell to his knees. The sword slipped from his grasp and landed a few feet away from him on the ground. His vision blurred, a sharp pain surging through him. He pressed a trembling hand against his stomach. When it came off bloody, a new wave of horror clawed at his insides. 

Solas lifted his gaze, looking for the All-Mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he witnessed projectiles peppering a fellow elvhen trying to join with the rest of the Sun Soldiers. Blood sprayed into every direction shortly before the soldier fell to the ground, defeated, lifeless. Solas rolled around just in time to evade a salve himself, feeling the projectiles hitting the troubled ground where he had kneeled. A moment later, he glimpsed a Child of the Stone carrying a cylindrical contraption. Flashes of light erupted from the weapon when the creature peppered the air with more fire.

He tried to regain his footing, crouching towards his blade. The pain slowed him down and blurred his vision as he crawled forward. Sweat streamed down his temples and the tang of blood filled his mouth. His hands were shaking when he finally reached out and felt the sword hilt underneath his fingers. With a grim smile, he pulled the blade toward him. 

Behind him, a Child of the Stone growled. The creature was closer than he’d hoped. Solas braced himself and rolled onto his back, his sword at the ready. His opponent towered over him with glowing eyes and a broadaxe in both hands. Solas drew from the Beyond to gather the air around him and weave it into a blast to push the creature back, but the pain made it harder to focus. He felt his own blood trickling down his stomach and his inside burned like fire.

Solas saw the eyes of the creature flare behind the visor of its helmet. And before he could finish his spell, the Child of the Stone lifted its axe and brought it down on the blade in Solas’s hand. Too weak to hold up against his enemy, his arm was pushed to the ground and the blade shattered. The creature put one booted foot on his hand, crushing his fingers in the process. Solas cried out and lost control over his magic as more pain surged through him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the axe glinting in the sunlight. Then the sharp edge came down again, cutting through his arm like a sickle through grain.

An eerie cold took hold of Solas as he felt the blood leaving his body. He winced and pressed his remaining hand against his forearm, trying to regain his self-control. The Child of the Stone snarled at him, waiting for him to defend himself, but when he stayed down, it stepped over him as if nothing had happened and went on to cut down more of the elvhen.

Solas’s mind raced. Willing himself to focus, he stretched out with his mind to touch the magic that coursed in his blood. He felt the echo of the Song, the low symphony that connected him with the Beyond. Drawing from its inextinguishable power, he thought of Geldauran and what the healer had taught him. 

_ We might craft and change our form but our essence is eternal. _

With ragged breaths, Solas willed his magic to close the wound on his arm. It was delicate work and the spell was less accurate than he’d hoped, so he was only able to slow down the bleeding, not stop it.

His spell dispersed when exhaustion claimed him. He lay down, sweating and shaking as he was. The noise of battle had been all but drowned by the low thrum of blood rushing in his ears. He looked at the sky and found Arlathan still intact, untouched by the slaughter below. June was still circling the sky in the form of a dragon. Fire erupted somewhere to Solas’s right and flashes of lightning stung in his eyes. He rolled to one side, finding that more of his people had fallen. 

“He’s here!” 

A shout, not far off. Then the rustling of robes and a hand that reached for him. 

“Look at me,” Solas heard a man say and lifted his gaze.

Falon’Din bent over him to assess his wounds. Solas felt his cold fingers grasping at him. His pale skin shimmered like bone in the harsh sunlight and his purple eyes were filled with grim determination. “Don’t fall asleep,” he said coolly and stretched out one hand. Solas felt him redirecting the ambient magic of the Beyond towards them and cast it over them like a cloak. As a result, Solas felt a kernel of warmth return to his body and the shivering slowly subsided. 

Thunder split the air. Falon’Din turned to observe the cliffs from which the Children of the Stone had emerged, as did Solas. Suddenly it seemed like a large shadow had been cast to cover the sun. It took Solas a moment to recognize the giant creature that hurled itself over the edge of the cliffs. Made of solid stone and covered in blue veins, it was larger than any building. Blazing blue eyes gazed upon the battlefield and feet as large as ponds crushed the elvhen and their enemies alike. The Earth shook and Solas felt the creature’s rumbling in his guts. 

Falon’Din rose to his feet and called on the Beyond to cast a shroud of black and purple around him to shield himself. To his right, another flash of light erupted and an angry battle cry rose from the fighting crowd. With fluttering eyes, Solas turned to look where it came from.

The last thing he saw was Mythal, cloaked in flame, running to meet the Titan with her sword raised high. Then the darkness swallowed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next chapter »](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/chapters/66455665)


	2. Chapter 14: Birth by Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [« Previous Chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/chapters/67399876)
> 
> This a toned down SFW version of the original chapter. CWs for murder, drug use and implied/referenced torture are in effect.

> _ -3,700 Ancient _

Ever since Sylaise had dreamed up the home she wanted to create for herself and her beloved husband, Felani had utterly loved the Sonallium. There had been something daring about the idea when Sylaise had first told her about her plan: to build an edifice, unlike anything the People had seen before. A perfect sphere, containing everything that life had to offer. Felani still remembered the sense of fulfillment and joy and happiness that had overflowed her sense when Sylaise had drawn from the energy of the Beyond to show Felani her dream.

“I want it to have everything June could possibly want,” Sylaise had said to her, eyes glistening with affection, “and you know his work better than anyone.”

That a powerful woman such as Sylaise, known for the care she put into her own work, would ask Felani for advice had been more than a compliment. It had felt as if she had ascended to new heights. She had caught a glimpse of that greatness Elgar’nan and Mythal had promised to the People. And Felani had felt drunk and dizzy with confidence as if she could conquer the whole world by herself. It had been intoxicating, and highly addictive.

From then on, she had worked tirelessly to help Sylaise, offering ideas of her own and making important revisions as the goddess’s plans for the Sonallium advanced. She had helped design the smithy that served as the main workshop for June and his workers and supported the entire monument with warmth and light. It had been her idea to have water run through the smooth stones of the Sonallium to keep the temperature within the sphere steady and she had crafted hundreds, if not thousands, of showpieces to decorate the halls and corridors. For the first time since Elgar’nan had shown her the dream of Elvhenan and had given her into June’s careful hands to learn from him, she had come close to realizing her full potential.

When Sylaise finally revealed her plan to June, the Master of Crafts had been overcome with such joy that he hadn’t been able to speak. The two Evanuris had stared at each other until June had drawn his wife into his arms and held her closely. Felani had never seen her master on the verge of tears before and never had again afterward.

Night had fallen over the Sonallium and the busy noise in the smithy was slowly dying down. Felani wiped the sweat from her brow and moved her left arm in its socket to release a tiny bit of that tension that had built up in her muscles while she worked. She had abandoned the sling in which she had carried the arm the day after Solas had left Arlathan and tried harder than ever to regain the strength and precision she had become used to. Crafting the armor for Solas certainly had contributed to that, but she couldn’t help but get to work again as soon as she had returned to her workshop.

Felani drew from the magic in her blood to guide the flames of the furnace towards the freshly-forged blade she was working on. Light licked at the dark steel, making it easier for her to fold and strengthen the metal.

The folding of steel had been one of the first techniques June had taught her after she had pledged loyalty to him and that knowledge had allowed her to craft marvels that were only second to her master’s creations. This blade, however, was something different. She would use her knowledge and experience to mold it into something new. It would serve a new purpose once – or if – the All-Mother decided to free her. Therefore, Felani had sent all assistants and spirits away to work alone and in silence. The blade was her little secret and she wouldn’t show it to anyone until it was ready. 

Luckily, the Master of Crafts had left the Sonallium to pay a visit to his sibling Dirthamen. No one, not even Sylaise, expected him to return soon. Felani guessed that her master would be gone for a fortnight at least and she had breathed a little easier ever since Sylaise had given her the news. 

But even with her ambition burning like a fire inside her, urging her to keep going, even Felani had to admit that she couldn’t continue at break-neck speed forever. Even metal needed time to sit and rest. The time it spent cooling down was just as essential as the skill of the blacksmith.

She brought down her hammer a few more times on the burning blade on her anvil, kindling the heat inside with her own magic, then turned to dip it into a bowl of water sitting by the furnace. The metal hissed and a puff of white smoke erupted from the water‘s surface. When she was sure the blade had cooled down enough, she set it aside on special hooks that hung from a wall nearby and cast a spell that activated the set of opals embedded surrounding it. She felt a power surge rush through the Beyond when the enchantment activated and concealed her creation safely.

With a heavy sigh, she took off her working clothes and wiped more sweat from her brows. It had been a long day, just like the one before, and the one before that. Still, the thought of retiring for the night made her uneasy. Ever since she had awakened from the torment June had put her through, the remains of her arm in bloody dressings, her sleep was haunted with dreams of dreadful shadows. Felani wasn’t certain if she was ready to face them again just yet.

She cleaned herself up with a splash of water in one of the bathing rooms near the smithy and changed into a pair of breeches, a loose tunic, and a heavy brocade vest. Her hair she kept in a long braid that fell heavy over her shoulder while she put on new foot wrappings. Once she had made herself presentable, she bound a pouch filled with coins to her belt and made her way through the long corridors of the Sonallium.

Her steps took her up a few levels where the hallways were decked with gilded mosaics from the war against the Children of the Stone. The braziers were lit with red and yellow fires that cast large and threatening shadows across the decorations. The effect reminded her of the carnage she had witnessed with her own eyes once the battle had ended. And again, a sense of fear made her scalp itchy and began to slowly crawl down her spine. She hurried past the mosaics and focused on the lush carpets that swallowed the sound of her steps and the arched windows that offered a veiled view of the outside world.

Soon after, she reached the entrance to a larger hall that was even more ornate than the rest of the Sonallium. Vines of gold twisted around columns of black marble that crisscrossed far overhead in countless arches. The polished stone floor was almost fully covered by deep-red carpets, matching the embrium flowers covering the walls like living tapestry. The heavy scent of smoldering incense rose from various bowls that stood scattered throughout, and imbued her with a sense of relaxation as soon as she entered.

They called it the House of Respite and it had everything to offer that one could ask for. Whatever means of relaxation you needed - food, sleep, sex - you would be able to find it here. Created by Sylaise herself and maintained by her high keeper and their trusted servants, it was a showcase of the goddess’s inherent powers. If the smithy was the burning heart of the Sonallium, the House of Respite was its soul. 

Upon entering, an elvhen woman in semi-transparent silks gilded towards Felani. Her face was covered with the curling lines of Sylaise’s vallaslin and painted in shades of violet and purple that blended perfectly with her dark skin. Golden bracelets curled around her upper arms, linked by golden chains running around her back.

“Welcome, honored elder,” the servant cooed and offered Felani a warm smile. “We are humbled to have you walk these halls once more. What is it you wish for?”

“I’m here to see Mhirir,” she said sternly.

“Of course.” The woman bowed her head in understanding. “Do you harbor any particular wishes for your recreation so he might make the necessary preparations?”

“Just the usual,” Felani said with a dismissive gesture.

“Of course, honored elder.” She clasped her hands before her chest. “How do you intend to pay for Mhirir’s services?”

Felani schooled her face into an expression of placidity and let three gold coins from the pouch on her belt fall into the woman’s hand.

Within the Sonallium, information was considered the most valuable currency. Share a glorious tale or a spicy secret with the right person and it would secure their services or even their loyalty. But with things as they were, she would have to rely on something more solid to keep her secrets to herself. 

The servant smiled reverently. “Please follow me, honored elder.”

Felani let the woman take her across the entrance hall and into a smaller one decked from top to bottom in heavy tapestry. A few dozen elvhen sprawled leisurely on the low couches and chairs that stood throughout the chamber. They mostly kept to themselves, enjoying a glass of wine, nibbling sweets or taking long draughts from smoking pipes, but some were engaged in muffled conversation or lay wrapped together in a moment of shared intimacy. Spirits of desire and joy and love tended to those who wished those feelings to be multiplied, but they were few. Most of them were needed in the upper rooms where the servants tended to the more delicate needs of their clients.

Sylaise’s serving woman brought Felani to a plush sofa at the back of the room. The fire from a nearby hearth radiated a stifling warmth that made Felani dizzy.

“Might I offer a drink or pipe to pass the time?” she asked. 

“A pipe, yes,” 

“It will be my pleasure.”

Felani stretched out on the couch, head propped up on one head, and regarded her fellow elvhen in the hall. Some cast inquisitive glances at her and turned away hurriedly when they realized she had caught them looking. She didn’t even need to draw energy from the Beyond to notice the air of veneration about them.

The servant returned with a long pipe and lit the mixture of dried herbs within for Felani. “Please enjoy yourself, honored elder,” she cooed and backed away with a bow.

Felani sucked at the pipe and enjoyed a soothing sensation coursing through her blood. She closed her eyes, exhaling a cloud of dense white smoke, and let relaxation claim her. 

“Well, well, look who it is.”

The voice belonged to a man and was all too familiar. It slithered under Felani’s skin and made her stomach churn. 

She opened her eyes and found Las'halani standing only a few paces away. June’s high keeper was clad in a silky sarong that reached down to his ankles but was otherwise undressed. He wore the blood writing of June on his face while his bare chest was covered in tattoos displaying the greatest deeds of his master. The deep-red depictions of June’s greatest creations stood in stark contrast to the myriad of golden bracelets around his wrists. 

Felani took another draught from the pipe and blew a puff of smoke in Las'halani’s direction. His appearance was enticing, designed to cause arousal in everyone in his general vicinity, but she wasn’t so easily fooled. She had mastered the Passage long before Las'halani had formed as a spirit of desire. There was no trick of his she didn’t know.

“I didn’t expect to meet you here, dear Felani,” he said with a smirk that inspired the urge in Felani to retch right before his bare feet. “You have been working so hard these past few days.”

“What do you want?” she asked, squinting.

“Nothing,” he said and raised his hands in a gesture of fake modesty. “I was concerned about you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

He snapped his fingers and three young elvhen women, all wearing Sylaise’s vallaslin, hurried to his side. Their hands wandered along Las'halani’s chest and arms like snakes curling up in their nest. He drew the face of one woman near and let his tongue flick over her pouting lips. 

“I would share them with you if you like,” he said to Felani without looking at her. His fingers closed around the young woman’s chin, coaxing a soft whimper out of her. Las'halani smirked again and forced the woman to look at her. “A pretty thing, isn’t she?”

“Not interested,” Felani said and exhaled another cascade of curling smoke before setting the pipe aside.

Las'halani frowned and turned his attention back to the girl next to him. “Your bad, my dear,” he said like he was whispering to a lover and cupped her face with both hands. Las'halani kissed her again. Then, with a sharp movement, he snapped her neck.

The two remaining women suppressed a frightened squeal when their fellow servant dropped to the floor, dead. The commotion drew the attention of the other guests. Felani could feel their fear rippling through the Beyond.

Felani was on her feet before she knew it, adrenaline coursing through her blood.

“What are you doing?” she asked harshly.

“Oh, don’t get yourself worked up,” Las'halani said dismissively. “She was a slave, bred to offer pleasure and recreation. What good is a slave when they can not perform their basic duty?”

Slave. The word sent icy shivers down Felani’s spine. Was this how the gods and their keepers saw their people? As disposable items they could dispose of whenever they liked?

“You can’t just kill whoever displeases you!” she snapped.

“Oh?” A glimmer sparked in his eyes. “And what if I can?”

Anger flared in her guts and set her blood on fire. In an instant, Felani reached for the magic of the Beyond. Her skin became hot, the veins beneath glowing with the power within. Fire erupted from her fingertips, the flames licking her skin tenderly. 

“I was born from the burning embers in which June forged his first creation,” she growled, the words emerging from her throat like the rumbling thunder of a volcano on the brink of erupting. “You don’t get to intimidate me, Las'halani. If you hadn’t ensnared our master with your twisted words, you wouldn’t have been able to take what should’ve been mine.”

Las'halani’s thin lips pursed into an angry smile.

“You may be the embodiment of His ambition, Felani,” he replied with deadly calm, “but I spark the joy of creation in His heart and I have earned my place at June’s side. To stand against me is to stand against the Master of Crafts himself. Do you really wish to tempt your fate again so soon?”

Felani fought the urge to reach for her regrown arm. The lingering pain in her muscles served as a stark reminder of what June was willing to do, even to her. 

“You–!”

“Honored elders!” A spirit approached hastily, its ethereal form hunched in a way of self-abasement that made Felani’s stomach revolt. It bowed before Las'halani reverently. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.”

Felani eyed the high keeper and waited for the man to unleash his magic on the spirit. After what she had witnessed, she was surprised that he settled for a menacing growl. The two women who still eagerly tried to soothe him with their lingering touches were scared half to death regardless.

The spirit turned to Felani, bowed again, and modulated its voice to sound soft and soothing. “Mhirir will see you now, honored elder. I will bring you to him.”

Felani clenched her fists and glared at Las'halani who gifted her with another wry smile. Oh, how she hated that man.  _ Not now _ , she reminded herself.  _ When the All-Mother has freed you from your bonds, you can make sure he’ll get his comeuppance. Just get your shit together. It’ll be over soon. _

“Gladly,” she said to the spirit and released the magic. The flames that had danced around her fingers extinguished instantly. “Take me to him.”

Felani kept her eyes fixed on the spirit as they left the chamber, not giving Las'halani the satisfaction of seeing her shaken. 

She followed the spirit up a winding staircase that led to the upper floors in the House of Respite. Most of the arched doors that led to various rooms and chambers were locked and sealed with enchantments meant to muffle every sound that might emerge from within. Only a few had been left ajar as if the people inside wanted to be overheard.  _ Or as an invitation,  _ Felani mused. 

Mhirir’s chamber was among the most spacious and luxurious in the entire building. Instead of magical motes, Mhirir preferred wax candles that emitted a vaguely soothing scent and filled the air with a warm light. The room was dominated by a large bed with rich velvet hangings that stood on a low pedestal. On the lower level, a chaise lounge and a series of armchairs were grouped around a low glass table. On top of the table, Felani noticed a fine selection of wines, brandies, tonics, and other recreational substances ready to be used.

“There she is!” a bright voice said. “Welcome back, my dear!”

Mhirir was dressed in a flowing silk robe so low-cut that it left most of his chest bare. He had changed the color of his long hair, which he usually kept in big curls that fell over his shoulders and all the way down to his hips, to a shade of cotton candy. It looked… delicious in the warm candlelight. 

“Shoo!” he said to the spirit with a wavy gesture. “I take it from here.”

The spirit did as commanded and locked the door to Mhirir’s quarters.

“Now, what brings you to me, dear?” Mhirir asked with a smile so wide it threatened to split his face apart. Deep eyes peeked at her, curious. 

Felani felt a smile tugging at her own lips. Mhirir’s presence was so intense and warm, the discomfort of meeting Las’halani was already fading away.

She regarded Mhirir intently, examining his lean body from head to toe. Only then did she realize that his white skin had been modulated as well since she had last seen him. Iridescent scales covered his neck, chest and arms that glistened when he moved.

“Haven’t you guessed?”

“Of course, I have,” Mhirir raised his eyebrows, teasing her with his gaze, “but I want to hear you say it. I like it that way.”

She laughed and walked to meet him. 

“It’s been a long day,” she said. “I could use someone to rub away some of that tension.”

Mhirir’s smile didn’t waver when he reached for her shoulder and traced the lines of her muscles all the way down to her hands with his fingers. “Oh, you must be aching like mad, my dear. But don’t worry. When you walk out of here, your muscle will be as smooth and soft like you were born yesterday.” 

Mhirir took her hands and ushered her over to the bed. There he undressed her swiftly, easing away what unrest remained from Felani’s encounter with her high keeper. He nudged her onto the bed and leaned over her to caress her body with his fingers. Neither of them spoke as he began to add gentle kisses to his treatment.

Felani closed her eyes and let him work his magic, giving herself to the rush of emotions coursing through her. Within minutes, he made her come undone and she let it happen, drowning in bittersweet memories, until all the dark thoughts that haunted her had been wiped from her mind.

“You really needed this, my dear, didn’t you?” Mhirir said with a teasing smile when they were finished.

“You have no idea,” she sai. 

Mhirir chuckled at her words and slipped away. She watched him walk over to the glass table to fetch a carafe of wine that sat on a finely crafted plate.

“Want one, too?” he asked while he poured himself a drink.

Felani shook her head, drawing in sharp breaths and waiting for her heartbeat to slow down again. She stretched, arms raised across her head, and closed her eyes. The tension in her muscles had finally vanished.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Mhirir noted, the brim of his cup close to his lips, “who were you thinking of before?”

Felani raised an eyebrow at him.

“Was it that obvious I was thinking about someone?”

Mhirir chuckled, the sound muffled by the long sip he took from his cup. “We’ve known each other for how long now, my dear? Three thousand years? Besides, it’s part of my profession to read people’s faces even if they are very good at concealing their emotions.”

Felani let out a soft huff.

“If you want to know the truth,” she said and rubbed her shoulder with one hand, “I was thinking about Solas.”

Mhirir’s brows rose with surprise.

“Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” he exclaimed, amusement curling his lips into a smile. “The Pride of the People, oh my! You really don’t aim low when choosing your lovers. You know that, yes?” He took another swig of wine and sprawled on one of the sitting cushions. “But I didn’t know you were seeing each other again. I was under the impression the two of you had some sort of falling out quite a while ago.”

“We didn’t have a falling out,” she corrected, tight-lipped. “His duties kept him busy, as did mine.”

“Ah, of course.” Mhirir helped himself to more wine. “But you did see each other again.”

“He paid me a visit recently, yes.”

“So the rumors I heard the other day  _ were _ true,” he said in a self-satisfied tone. He regarded her intently while he curled one of his pink locks around a finger. “And?”

Felani pressed her lips together and drew in a frustrated breath. 

“I don’t know.”   


“You don’t know?” Mhirir asked with a frown. Suspicion gleamed in his eyes. “Care to elaborate, my dear?”

Felani wished she could be mad at Mhirir, but the truth was that he had rooted her out. Seeing Solas again after so many years of silence had rekindled a flame she had believed had gone out ages ago.

Centuries had passed since she had spent any amount of time with Solas. After the events at the Refuge, something had changed in him and he hadn’t been so eager to see her again. And she had agreed, thinking it was for the better. They had gotten too attached to each other for her own liking anyway. So she had returned to the Sonallium and buried herself in her work and after a while, she had stopped thinking about him. Until he had shown up in her workshop, she had been certain that whatever they’d shared had been nothing more than an occasional fling with no importance. But when Solas had asked for her help, holding her hands the same gentle way he always had, she had found herself utterly defenseless. She might have helped him regardless of the danger if she hadn’t thought of twisting their conversation into an official deal in time.

But that kiss… She still didn’t know what she had been thinking. Kissing him had given him hope where there better be none. The last thing Solas needed was the possibility of unrequited love tormenting him on his quest. 

And yet…

Felani cleared her throat in an ill-fated attempt to ward off the feeling of guilt and sadness that always tugged at her heart when she thought of Solas.

“He deserves someone who can love him freely,” she said and hated the rasping sound of her own voice. “Someone who would choose him over anything else, no matter what.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. With a snivel, she turned to Mhirir and pursed her lips into a defiant grin. 

“I changed my mind,” she said. “I’d love to have some of that wine.”

Mhirir looked at her for a long moment, assessing her from top to bottom. “Of course,” he said with a sympathetic smile and went to fetch her a glass.

He came over to the bed once more, handed her the drink, and sat down next to her. Felani thanked him and took a careful sip. A velvet berry taste blossomed on her tongue.

Mhirir reached for her with one hand and caught a loose strand of hair. He tugged it behind her ear ever so gently.

“You’re not as abrasive as you think, my dear,” Mhirir said in a soothing tone. “It just takes someone wise enough to understand how your mind works and still love you for who you are.”

Felani huffed a laugh and took a long draught from her wine. “Yeah, maybe.”

Involuntarily, she was reminded of her own words to Las'halani. Born from the burning embers in which June had forged his first creation. That’s what she was. What she had always been. Ambition burned in her heart like a fire that could never be extinguished. It had always urged her to take the roads less traveled and strive for greatness rather than personal comfort. She wanted to be known for the wonders she could craft. And the other smiths had scowled at her for that. She had heard them whisper behind her back, talking about how she made them all look bad and that she was working so hard just to put them all to shame. They had never cared to learn the truth, nor had she cared to share it with them. The truth that she couldn’t stop, even if she tried.

In the countless centuries since she had made her Passage, only Solas had come close to giving her a taste of what true understanding felt like. When she had been in his arms, it had always felt like he could see straight into her soul. As if she was the most fascinating thing in the world to him.

She would be lying if she pretended that she hadn’t missed it, to be held like that. But after she and Solas had bid their goodbyes at the Refuge, she happily had buried this desire deep down. He had already come close enough to be burned by the fire in her soul. She wouldn’t allow it to harm him any further.

Would things change once Mythal had set her free? It was better not to think of it. There was no knowing when she would see Solas again if she ever did. He could die out in the wilderness while he hunted for the Black Dread without anyone knowing. Sweet skies, she herself could meet a horrible death should June ever find out that she crossed him again. As much as she hated to admit it, but her life was in the All-Mother’s hands now. 

Felani took another long draught from her glass, downing the rest of the drink. “Let’s have another one,” she told Mhirir and forced herself to smile, “and make the best of the time that is given to us.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The only way to tell day from night was the slow dying of the light beyond the stain-glass windows that faced the inner sanctum of the Sonallium. And the warm glow had all but vanished when Mhirir got up from the bed again and collected Felani’s clothes for her. 

She was reluctant to leave. Mhirir could tell it by the way her brows furrowed and her gaze lingered. Her fingers worked slowly while she dressed again and fixed her hair back into place. He wondered if that little fantasy of her former lover still haunted her.

“Sleep tight, my dear,” Mhirir said softly, drawing from the energy of the Beyond to wrap her in compassion for a moment. “Maybe you’ll dream something nice tonight.”

“Let’s hope so.” She smiled wryly. “Thank you, my friend.”

When the door closed behind her, Mhirir walked over to the chaise longue to rest and collect his thoughts. It was hard not to feel sorry for Felani. From the way she carried herself, Mhirir knew she felt an incomparable loneliness whenever she returned to her chambers and the shadows of the night closed in around her. No drink or drug or any amount of fleeting pleasure could erase such a simple truth.

He sighed and stretched out on the chaise longue. He might have rubbed away Felani’s tension, but his body was ready for some rest. It was time to care for himself and let the worries of his clientele drift into the back of his mind again. Evanuris knew, he’d earned it!

His hand hovered over the pipe with the relaxation herbs when the door opened again. A powerful quiver in the Beyond announced the arrival of a powerful elvhen. It reminded him of ash and fire and the cutting edge of a blade. 

Involuntarily, Mhirir smiled.

“Back already, my dear?” he asked without turning, modulating his voice to make it sound like sweet honey dripping from into the ear. “You know that stayover’s cost extra.”

“They don’t for me.”

_ No, that’s impossible!  _ Darkness clawed at Mhirir’s insides.  _ It can’t be him. Please, Sylaise, don’t let it be him. _

In a single motion, Mhirir stood, readjusted his robes and schooled his expression into a soft smirk.

“Las’halani!” he cooed in an attempt to hide his shock. “Please excuse my dishevelled look, my dear. I wasn’t expecting more visitors tonight.”

June’s high keeper came closer, golden bracelets around his arms and legs ringing with every step. His pale face was still as a mountain lake, not betraying a single emotion. Eyes as dark as coal regarded him.

Mhirir tried to keep his gaze fixed on the man’s face and resist the urge to step back. Long ago, Las’halani had been a powerful desire spirit. So powerful, in fact, that even the gods were susceptible to his gifts. If the stories were true, he had been the one to kindle the spark of love between June and Sylaise into a roaring fire. Someone who could stir the hearts of the mighty like that was no one to be trifled with. Mhirir had learned that when Sylaise’s high keeper had caught him in a spirit trap and taught him in preparation for the Passage.

Las’halani’s scent, a heavy blend of musk and vanilla and titan’s blood, hurried ahead of him and instilled a sense of fearful lust in Mhirir. He dropped his conscious connection to the Beyond in an instant and focused inward to keep the intoxicating smell from overpowering him.

“What can I do for you, honored elder?”

The high keeper stopped when he was barely an arm’s length from Mhirir. His face was unchanged and his voice remained calm, but the menace in his eyes was all too apparent.

“Is it not obvious?” he asked softly.

Mhirir chuckled, but he knew it sounded hollow. “I’m afraid this is not–”

Before he had the chance to finish his sentence, Las’halani had raised a hand and gripped his chin as firm as a vice. Mhirir’s jaws ached under the unexpected pain.

“I hear our dear Felani is very fond of you,” the high keeper breathed. “They tell me that you know how to give her pleasure and how to ease her conscience.”

“Such is the nature of my profession,” Mhiri said through gritted teeth.

“If you could win the loyalty of someone as changeable as her, you must be a lover of great talent.”

“One does not wish to brag.”

Las’halani’s lips curled, not quite a snarl, not quite a smile.

“It sounds like I need to experience some of that exceptional talent myself,” he whispered and leaned in, his lips hovering over Mhirir’s for a moment before he kissed him. They were cool to the touch, like a cube of ice melting. 

Mhirir winced as he felt the high keeper’s thoughts probing for his own in the Beyond. Hot-white pain erupted behind his eyes when Las’halani broke through his defences and images of torn flesh and blood flashed before his mind’s eye. Pain and pleasure, intertwined forever, to paint a picture of terrifying beauty.

“Well,” Las’halani continued with a smile, “shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next Chapter »](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/chapters/71111727)


	3. Chapter 16: Days of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [« Previous Chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/chapters/71111727)

> _-4,500 Ancient_

As the sun rose in the east and bathed the city of Arlathan in its golden light, it heralded more than the beginning of a new day. It marked the end of a century of mourning, and the dawn of a new era for the elvhen empire. 

For a hundred years, the Evanuris had done all within their power to not only restore Arlathan to its glory from the time before the war. They had avenged the lives lost in the fight against the Children of the Stone. The sleeping titan that had rested beneath Arlathan had been slain by Mythal’s hand and its minions driven back into the depth of the ground. With the last of his forces, Elgar’nan and his soldiers had captured those elvhen who had failed the People by fleeing from the battlefield while Andruil, together with Falon’Din and Dirthamen, had set out to find and neutralize spirits of ill intent that had formed as a result of the collective suffering. They were aided by Ghilan'nain who had proved herself to be worthy of the title of Evanuris with her creations and helped bring countless demons to justice. All of this happened with Sylaise and June supplying them, and Geldauran, Anaris, and Daern’thal tending to the needs of the People within the confines of the city. 

For a hundred years, elvhen and spirits had worked side by side to aid their elected leaders, their kings and queens, in their glorious endeavours. Many had pledged themselves to the Evanuris, offering their loyalty and servitude in exchange for reverence, protection and a cause worth fighting for. They had rebuilt Arlathan, adding to the splendor of its early days a thousandfold. Where once the buildings and streets had been decked with gilded mosaics, they were now accompanied by structures of pure crystal that reflected the sunlight in myriad colors. The crystal grew like a living thing along the largest of buildings, encasing even Mythal’s tower, the Sun Spire, and the dome of the assembly hall that had been built upon _ar lath’an,_ the Ring of Summons.

All this was only the prelude to an age of greatness, albeit born of misery and suffering. The loss of countless lives in the war had led to an onslaught of anger and anguish among the People and their sorrows became intrinsically tied to the marvels they created. It was all an attempt to calm the minds of the People and prevent the creation of undesirable spirits. The Evanuris had guided the hands of their followers to ease their pain and give them guidance until the time of mourning had passed.

And now they were making plans to breathe life into the dream of Elvhenan. Soon, the People would move away from Arlathan to uncover new lands and make them their own. They would tame the beasts of the wilds and build new settlements to further the glory of the People. And all of them would be connected by a network of mirrors, the eluvians, that Daern‘thal had crafted with the titan‘s blood. After millennia of work and dedication and an entire age of restoration, Elvhenan was finally within reach.

It was Midsummer’s Night and the first time the People would gather in the streets of Arlathan to celebrate since the war against the Children of the Stone. It had been a day of importance for all elvhen since the founding of Arlathan. Each year, when the sun claimed the highest spot in the sky, the All-Father’s power reached its zenith. And each year, since he and Mythal had carved their bodies from water and earth, Elgar’nan repaid the People’s reverence with a celebration that was meant to spark joy and kindness and compassion among them.

As Elgar’nan’s eternal companion, Mythal would stand by his side during the parade in the All-Father’s honor. For that occasion, she had clad herself in a nightblue gown laiden with silver embroidery that was made to imitate the night sky. The robe was complemented by pieces of armor – pauldrons on her shoulders, vambraces around her arms and a set of silver greaves to cover her calves – in remembrance of her victory over the titan. In addition, her long hair was intertwined with a large headpiece that was shaped like a crescent moon facing downwards. Silver strands hung from the elaborate crown like tiny streams of water, giving Mythal the appearance of an otherworldly being that had come down from the sky itself to walk among the People.

Everyone in the atrium fell silent when the All-Mother entered. Even Solas, who had seen Mythal perform the miraculous ritual that had lifted Arlathan into the sky with his own eyes, looked upon his mistress with astonishment. For a moment, it felt like he had gone back in time, back to those days when he had been nothing but a nameless spirit observing the People from afar. Gazing upon the All-Mother as she cared for her children had infused him with the same sense of wonderment.

“My friend,” Mythal said as she walked toward him. Her steps were long and graceful, every step full of confidence. The throng of servants that followed her came to an abrupt halt when she stopped in front of Solas to assess him. “You look good.”

Solas cast a fleeting glance to his own robes and raised both hands so she could have a better look at them. He wore a close-cut tunic and matching breeches in dark blue and with silver threads along the seams that went well with the silver foot wrappings and shin guards. He had shaved the sides of his head in order to braid his dark brown hair and entwine it with a ribbon that matched his clothing. In addition, he’d put on a long coat with tails that pooled around his feet and wide cuffs that almost reached the floor. All in all, the outfit was not nearly as elaborate as Mythal’s but they were the finest thing he’d ever owned.

“You flatter me,” he said with a smile. “But I have to admit there is a certain enjoyment to adorning oneself.”

Mythal grinned at that.

“After what you’ve faced, my friend, you deserve to enjoy yourself a little bit,” she said and laid one hand on Solas’s arm. The arm that he had lost during the battle. The arm that he had to grow back over the course of several weeks.

Before Solas had the chance to reply, Shivanas walked up to him and the All-Mother and bowed.

“All-Mother,” she said. “The procession is ready to leave on your word.”

Mythal looked at the woman, the smile on her face fading quickly. Then she cast a glance at the elvhen and spirits that had assembled in her tower that day. They had all pledged themselves to her service. The vallaslin on their faces and the silky nightblue robes that matched Mythal’s gown were an obvious testimony of that loyalty. But that was not what stirred Solas’s heart when he turned to follow the All-Mother’s gaze. It was the pride that glowed on their faces that resonated with him.

Mythal nodded, her own cheeks colored by a slight blush. She gestured towards Mirthavhen who had been standing a few paces away and urged them to join her. The elvhen nodded and hurried to stand beside Solas and Shivanas.

“I want the three of you to walk close behind me,” Mythal announced and regarded them all closely. “You have done more than anyone else in my servitude to aid me and the People. It is time we honored your dedication and personal sacrifices.”

Solas, Shivanas, and Mirthavhen bowed before her in unison, humbled by the All-Mother’s words.

Mythal smirked, her face gleaming with pride.

“Duty, Faith and Wisdom,” she said, eyeing first Shivanas, then Mirthavhen and Solas. “The three virtues of the People. I could not ask for finer company today.”

Solas felt a tender warmth blooming in his chest at those words and he had no doubt that Mirthavhen and Shivanas felt the same. All three of them had pledged themselves to Mythal when they had still been spirits, all three of them learning and benefiting from her knowledge and guidance. They would be bound to each other by these experiences, despite all the things that set them apart.

“Come,” Mythal said and began to move. “I’m sure my beloved husband is already waiting for us.”

The sky was already burning with the colors of morning when the procession left the All-Mother’s tower.

Mythal lead from the front, with Solas, Shivanas, and Mirthavhen walking close behind her. The personal servants of the All-Mother – the valets, maids and cupbearers – followed at some distance, but close enough to rush to her to fulfill her every desire if need be. They were swarmed by an entire army of lower servants that carried gifts for the coming celebration at Elgar’nan’s stronghold: food, drink and, most importantly, vials filled with titan’s blood.

Solas could barely believe his eyes as they made their way through the city of Arlathan. Every street was filled with people, elvhen and spirits alike. They had left their houses to gaze upon the All-Mother, hailing her as she passed. More often than not, Solas saw their faces gleam with tears of joy and he, in turn, felt the weight of an entire century slide off his shoulders. He heard the cheers and the distant hum of music that pervaded the air and his heart beat faster.

_These have been hard years,_ he thought to himself, _but not anymore._

They rounded the island on which the Ring of Summons had been erected, and Solas heard the others strike up muffled conversations when the Sun Spire came into view. Where Mythal’s tower was strong and sturdy, built upon a square base and of solid stone, Elgar’nan’s palace was crafted from pure glass to capture the sunlight. The glass had been molded into sheaths that formed a hexagonal shape that got thinner and thinner towards the top. Most days, the upper levels of the Sun Spire were obscured by clouds but today the sky was clear for miles, allowing everyone within the city to marvel at the tower’s full splendor.

In front of the Sun Spire, at the top of a staircase that encompassed the entire base of the tower, Elgar’nan awaited the arrival of his wife. He was accompanied by an entourage not unlike Mythal’s, although his servants were dressed in flaming shades of yellow, orange and red. The boulevard that led to the Sun Spire was decked with ornate mosaics displaying scenes from the Darkest Days, that bygone age before the founding of Arlathan, when Elgar’nan had first learned to wield the power of the sun. On the sidewalks, thousands upon thousands of elvhen and spirits had gathered to witness the arrival of Mythal and her delegation. Solas could feel their emotions in the Beyond with such intensity, as if they were tidal waves crashing against a shore line and for a moment he could feel tears of his own tugging at his eyes.

When Mythal ascended the staircase, Elgar’nan walked to meet her. His dark face and golden eyes seemed to glow thanks to his bright red robes and the headpiece that resembled the disk of the sun. He reached for Mythal’s hands and brought them up to his lips. He kissed them tenderly, then pressed them against his forehead. Mythal returned his greeting with similar kindness, smiling at him in a way that Solas had witnessed very rarely before. 

Hand in hand and under the watchful eye of the gathered people, Mythal and Elgar’nan ascended the stairs of the Sun Spire. Solas, Shivanas and Mirthavhen followed them at a remove, while the rest of Mythal’s entourage took up their places at the base of the stairs. From the corner of his eye, Solas caught Imras’s eye. The young soldier was clad in intricate armor just like the rest of Elgar’nan’s high ranking warriors. They nodded at each other curtly, more in recognition than out of respect. Solas took up a spot right behind Mythal, siding with Shivanas and one of the All-Father’s advisors.

A contemplative silence fell over the crowd. Then the sound of a horn. It shook the air like thunder and made every eye turn to the other end of the boulevard.

Andruil had come. She wore her hunting armor, including her bow and quiver, and held onto a large spear that was crackling with lightning. And by her side, Ghilan’nain. Her dress was wide, flowing and so white that it was almost blinding. On her head rested a crown carved from the twisted horns of two halla that marked her as their creator, their mother.

The two women made an unlikely pair, if Solas had ever seen one. Where Andruil was tall and bold, Ghilan’nain was small and slender. Her pale complexion and flaxen hair stood in stark contrast to Andruil’s dark skin and black hair. And yet, as the two Evanuris walked toward the Sun Spire, they moved like a single entity.

Behind Andruil and Ghilan’nain followed a slew of hunters and servants that carried fresh kills for the feast on golden skewers. The crowd stared at the enormous beasts in awe, celebrating the hunters for their skill and thanking them for providing for the People in abundance.

When both Andruil and Ghilan’nain reached the steps that led up to the Sun Spire, the procession stopped again and their followers scattered to bring the gifts for the feast into the tower discreetly through a servant’s entrance. Elgar’nan stepped forward and blessed his daughter and her companion with a wavelike gesture. Andruil and Ghilan’nain bowed their heads in response, then ordered their entourage to carry the dead beast away before they ascended the stairs and stood with the All-Father and All-Mother.

Soon after, Falon’Din and Dirthamen arrived on the boulevard. Where Andruil and Ghilan’nain had looked like an unlikely, yet perfect match, the two siblings had adorned themselves in flowing robes of matching color – dark blue and violet, with golden embroidery to match – but there seemed to be a dissonance between them. They walked side by side but at a careful distance from each other, as if being in close proximity was too much to comprehend. With his face hidden behind a golden skull that served as a mask, it was hard to tell more about Falon’Din’s feelings. Dirthamen on the other hand looked thoughtful, gloomy. They had changed their appearance into something genderless, their skin pale and almost transluscent, while their two ravens sat perched on their shoulders. Dirthamen’s hair that day was long and dyed in the shade of raddle. They wore it pinned up on their head in a cascade of curls that were decked with white flowers.

Both their entourages followed at a slow pace, praying endlessly for the People and its well-being. Their mumbled words sparked a cold shiver that quickly spread over Solas’s shoulder as he and the other elvhen on the stairs watched the procession. 

After Falon’Din and Dirthamen had taken up their place beside Andruil and Ghilan’nain, June and his wife, Sylaise, made their great entry. They dispelled the sombre atmosphere with a hundred singers and musicians that played lively tunes to raise the spirits. Behind them, a whole company of dancers moved to the music. Their silky dresses swayed with every movement, causing a whirlwind of color that pleased the eye, and as a result the crowd cheered even louder than before and joined the singing of the musicians.

The dancers and musicians blended into the crowd, making way for the next part of the procession, while June and Sylaise walked up to the stairs before the Sun Spire. Close behind them followed four elvhen. Two wore the blood writing of Sylaise, a pattern of curling lines made to imitate a hearth fire. Solas had never seen them before but he was certain that they served as advisors or personal servants. The other two he knew far better. The man was called Las’halani. Once a powerful desire spirit, June had kept him close to keep the fire of his own creativity going. Solas had met him before, but only fleetingly. From what he could tell, the man had been too self-absorbed to really care for the interests of others, and thus he had been no interest to Solas. The woman that walked next to Las’halani now, however, always managed to captivate his full attention.

Felani wore a strapless dress in fiery colors that complemented her amber eyes. It was tight around the chest and waist, resembling the leather armor of a hunter, but tapered off in multiple layers of frilling chiffon. Her black hair was braided on one side, but flowed freely on the other, covering her shoulder like a tippet. She must have felt Solas’s gaze on her, because as soon as she followed her master June up the stairs, she looked at him and gave him a smile that kindled a tender warmth in his chest.

Decades had passed since they had last seen each other in the flesh, not accounting for the many meetings in dreams that had helped to bridge the distance between then. Still, Solas hadn’t noticed how much he had wanted to see her again, close enough to touch.

Midday had come and gone, when the last three Evanuris made their way to the All-Father’s tower. Daern’thal went first, dark-skinned and tall as he had always been. He had shaved his head entirely and replaced it with a well-groomed beard. Then came Anaris with his flaming red hair and vivid green eyes. The two brothers had brought presents for the All-Father to praise his glory as well: trinkets of all kinds and vials filled with recreational liquids. All of it was meant to spark joy and pleasure, but Solas felt a sense of discomfort in the Beyond that emanated from the two men. Their minds were dark despite the cheerful occasion and they were not looking forward to the events of that day.

Solas furrowed his brows. What was the meaning of this?

Geldauran came in the company of the healers. They walked in front of him, all of them were dressed in flowing white robes with a red band around their left arms. The People greeted them with reverence and bowing heads, murmuring blessings in their general direction. When they reached the steps before the Sun Spire, they all bowed to the assembled Evanuris and their followers, then walked off to the sides to blend in with the crowd. Only then came Geldauran, the Great Healer. His white hair fell freely over his shoulders, apart from a few strands that had been bound to expose his face. He wore a crown of laurel and golden berries that stood in contrast with his pale face and white robes. In his arms, he carried a small bundle. He held it gingerly, as if he feared that it might break, but his eyes were cool and unrelenting.

When Geldauran reached the stairs, he stopped and looked up at Elgar’nan and Mythal. He regarded them with a long, icy stare. An expectant calm came over the crowd as it waited for the Great Healer to make his ascent. Instead, Geldauran just stood there and held the bundle in his arm.

“It is done,” he said calmly, but his voice rang louder than the toll of a bell in the quiet.

Solas swallowed. Something in Geldauran’s tone sent a shiver down his spine. It was hard and sharp like the edge of a sword ready to strike. Despite himself, he reached for his elbow where the axe of a Stonechild had severed his arm.

Beside him, Mythal took in a shuddering breath. Her hand trembled when she reached for Elgar’nan’s hand. The All-Father looked at his wife, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Solas squinted. What was all this about?

Elgar’nan took Mythal’s hand and together they walked down the stairs to meet Geldauran. There, the Great Healer stood, still as mountain, and held his gift in his arms.

“I did as you asked,” he said when the All-Father and All-Mother stood before him.

“Show it to me,” Mythal demanded and held out both hands.

Only then did Geldauran begin to move again. He cast a glance at the bundle and drew himself upright. Then he gave Mythal the bundle and took a step back.

The All-Mother drew back the sheet of white linen the bundle was wrapped in. For a moment, it seemed like something moved inside, like an elvhen awake from a pleasant slumber, but much, much smaller. Then a cooing sound emerged from the bundle and a smile unlike any Solas had seen before spread on Mythal’s face. She turned to Elgar’nan and showed him the bundle and his face lit up with pride and confidence. The All-Father drew himself upright.

“Is that...” whispered Mirthavhen, “a child?”

Solas turned to stare at the servant. His eyes were wide with astonishment. 

“A waking-born,” added Shivanas in a hushed tone. “I can’t believe it.”

“You did well,” said Elgar’nan and rested a hand on Geldauran’s shoulder. The healer stared at the All-Father and acknowledged his words with the slightest of nods. He turned to Mythal and nodded at her too before he stepped aside and walked up the stairs.

The All-Mother and All-Father remained where they were, drawing back the sheets further to expose the face and arms of the small being inside. It’s bronze skin was soft and glowing and it reached up to the sky as if it might touch it. Elgar’nan let one hand glide over the child’s small head, smiling, before he turned to the congregation before the Sun Spire and the gathered People on the boulevard.

“Of all the gifts that have been brought before me,” he said in a booming voice and raised his hands, “none is greater than this. A child, born in the Waking World, by one of us.”

A gasp and a murmur ran through the crowd as elvhen and spirits alike processed this information.

“This will be to the benefit of the People,” Elgar’nan went on. “We have lost many in our war against the Children of the Stone. A hundred years ago, there were just enough of us left to rebuild Arlathan. But now, “ he gestured toward Mythal and the child, “we have found a means to replenish our numbers and our strength. In a not so distant future, we will be legion and we will roam across the continent to make it our own.” 

Solas held his breath, as did many others around him. 

“From this day onward, we bestow this blessing upon any elvhen who wishes to have it. In doing so, you will have contributed in the shared dream that keeps us all together. The dream that defines the People,” Elgar’nan said in a reverent voice that charmed the entire crowd.

More utterances of surprise emerged from the gathered people, along with cries of joy and sobbing. A tide of entangled emotions rose in the Beyond, made it churn like a maelstrom. Solas could feel it, and so could Shivanas, Mirthavhen and everyone else around him. For the fraction of a moment, he got swept up in the intensity of it all, losing himself in the feelings of others. With a deep breath, he managed to push back the billowing energy of the Beyond and shut himself off, but the world was still spinning around him. His gaze darted across the faces in the crowd, looking for something to use as a fixpoint. It was then that his eyes locked with Mythal’s. Her golden eyes gleamed knowingly and she gave him a tiny smile. Why had she never talked about this to him before?

“We will build Elvhenan together,” Elgar’nan said in a booming voice that was made to drown out all other sounds. “And we will start building it _today._ ”

* * *

After the procession, Elgar’nan and Mythal led the Evanuris and their companions into the Sun Spire. The main hall of the edifice had been prepared for a congregation, with artful glass lamps hanging from the crystal ceiling to illuminate the white marble floor below. Solas looked up to find glowing flecks up in the arches that supported the ceilings, like veins of light running through them.

All eleven Evanuris were seated on a high table that had been built up under a baldachin on one side of the hall, while the rest would have to make merry on the stools and seat pads and chairs and sofas for conversing and dining that stood scattered across the room. Food and drinks and all the other gifts the Evanuris and their followers had presented during the procession had been arranged on countless smaller tables to freely pick from, but an additional army of servants stood ready to fetch more if need be.

Solas allowed a serving girl to pour him a glass of wine and took a sip. The liquid was surprisingly sweet and cool, a nice contrast to the heat of summer outside the Sun Spire.

Mirthavhen struck up a conversation with Solas and they sat together, talking, eating and taking the occasional swig from their cups until Sylaise’s singers and dancers entered the hall and began to entertain the guests. They were playing a rather relaxed tune to give everyone the chance to continue their conversations, but Solas somehow felt uncomfortable, uneasy. He tapped his foot nervously and looked for Mythal who was sitting on a throne-like chair at the high table and talking to Andruil. This was the first time he did not stand behind her seat, ready to fulfill her request, he noticed. Maybe that was what made him so restless.

The child that the All-Mother and All-Father had presented to the People had been taken away right after the ceremony. Geldauran’s own healers were seeing to its every need, as far as Solas could tell. They had flocked around it like a swarm of birds, eager to carry it away, as soon as Mythal had given the command. Solas wondered how long they had prepared to care for the little one.

How long had Geldauran experimented to produce the child in the first place?

Solas was nursing another cup of wine when someone came up from behind him. When he turned, he saw Dirthaman gliding towards him. Their two ravens, Fear and Deceit, still perched on their shoulders like sculptures and seemed to eye Solas with their yellow eyes.

“May we have a moment?” Dirthamen asked and flashed a slick smile in Mirthavhen’s direction. Solas’s companion frowned for a moment, then bowed their head and hurried away to find some else to talk to.

Dirthamen stood there, holding a crystal goblet of their own and sipping at it leisurely. With their ginger hair pinned up, they were even more imposing than usual. Solas rose to his feet to fight the feeling and drew himself upright in front of the Evanuris.

“What can I do for you, Dirthamen?” he asked, an air of briskness creeping into his voice before he could hold it back.

“No need to be alarmed,” Dirthamen cooed and turned to wave at one of the servants. They ordered them to refill Solas’s glass before he could even object. “Drink!” the Evanuris urged him and spun around to stand by his side, their free arm linking them together. “Enjoy yourself. We all should. We have earned it!”

Solas thanked the servant and took another draught from his glass. The faint smell of cold stone and exotic flowers reached his nostrils. It was undoubtedly coming from Dirthamen.

They led Solas away from the sofa on which he and Mirthavhen had been sitting. There was quite the commotion now that most of the people in the hall had had their first servings and a couple of drinks to loosen their tongues. They chatted idly, laughing at jokes or whirling around some of the musicians. “What a lovely little party, don’t you think?” they asked.

“The All-Father has utterly outdone himself,” Solas admitted.

“He did!” Dirthamen agreed enthusiastical and gave his arm a tight squeeze. “We all did, if I may say so. We have done well to cull the weak and calm the unease in our brethren. You have been keeping busy from what I hear, listening to the troubles of the People in the All-Mother’s tower and praying with them. But those days are now finally behind us. It really is a joy to see the People thriving again.”

Indeed, they were. The commotion around them was a testimony to the People’s new found joy in life. Their spirits had been lifted and they were ready to venture out into the world and make it their own.

They walked for a little while longer, regarding the elvhen around the hall. They were frollicking and revelling more and more with each passing moment. By nightfall, the hall would be booming with music and laughter.

After a while, Dirthamen stopped to watch a group of elvhen that stood by one of the crystal columns that supported the ceiling. They passed a pipe around, each of them taking long draughts of smoke from it. Solas could smell the heavy blend of tobacco and recreational herbs.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Dirthamen asked with a whiff of appreciation in their voice. They were staring at a woman with white skin and golden hair that had been captured in a myriad of braids. She wore a dark blue dress that was trimmed with golden laces. The neckline was so deep that it was hard to miss the ample curves of her body. Ghilan’nain’s vallasin shimmered palely in the golden light within the Sun Spire. Her watery blue eyes met Solas’s for a brief second. Then she blushed and turned to her companions, determined not to look at him again.

Dirthamen chuckled.

“She has been staring at you since we entered the Sun Spire,” they muttered. Their tongue flicked over their lips as if they were savoring a fine wine. “She wants to have you in her mouth, you know. She thinks she can make you come so hard that you will fall in love with her. Or at least think of her with affection when you pleasure yourself afterward.”

Solas glared at the Evanuris. “Let that be her private fantasy, Dirthamen. Neither she nor I need you to pry on our secrets.”

“So touchy,” they cooed. “Don’t you enjoy being desired?”

“I enjoy it as much as any other man,” Solas replied. “That doesn't mean you have any right to know about anyone's deepest desires.”

“On the contrary.” Dirthamen returned their gaze to Solas. “It is my duty to be informed about _everyone's_ desires. How else would we know if they turn foul and dark and spawn more malformed spirits? After what the People have been through – after all that we have done to repair the damage done during the war – we must spark joy and pleasure but also prevent outbursts of rage, hunger, or sorrow. Spirits of such nature are as much a threat to the well-being of the People as the Children of the Stone ever were.”

As much as Solas hated it, he had to agree with Dirthamen. To a degree, at least. The war had been a test of the will and determination of the People. The countless deaths had instilled fear and terror in many hearts.

“Our personal freedom ends where that of all others begins,” Solas said. “But in our thoughts, we can be truly free. We can examine ideas without the need to turn them into action. And not every ill-tempered thought is followed by foul deeds. How long before your attempt at damage control turns into a way to terrorize the People. We all need a place of safety that belongs entirely to ourselves.”

Dirthamen smirked. “You have thought a lot about this, haven’t you?”

“Occasionally, yes.” 

Their face didn’t betray any emotions. There was only a gleam in Dirthamen’s purple eyes, a kind of mild curiosity. Then the moment passed and the Evanuris burst into roaring laughter.

“My mother was right!” they exclaimed and brushed away tears that had gathered in the corner of their eyes. 

They laughed a little longer, while Solas stared at Dirthamen with shock and disbelief. 

“Oh, my dear Solas,” mumbled Dirthamen when they had regained control over themself again. They unlinked their arm from Solas’s and patted him on the shoulder. “It will be so much fun to have you around.”

And with that, Dirthamen stalked off, snapping their fingers at a servant and ordering them to refill their cup. Solas's gaze followed them.

_What was all that about?_ he wondered and brought the goblet to his lips. It was only then that he realized he had already finished his drink. He snorted and inspected his glass disapprovingly.

“You look like you could use more wine.”

Felani was standing only a few paces away, regarding him with a crooked smile, when Solas turned to look at her.

“Maybe later,” he said and came towards her. They greeted each other, going through the motions of a formal welcome to keep up appearances. Then they stopped, looking bewildered. Solas walked over to her and pulled her into an embrace. Felani laughed as she wrapped her arms around his waist. In an instant, he caught her familiar scent: fire and wood, ashes and spices.

Sweet skies, he had missed her endlessly.

She planted a firm kiss on his cheek and squeezed him one more time before slipping away by an arm’s length.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come over sooner. Lots of things that needed to be discussed, as you can imagine.“ Felani said, carefully examining his robes. “You look good.”

”I tried my best,“ he said with a smile. “You look quite stunning yourself, if I may say so.“

She threaded her fingers through the cascade of black hair draped over her shoulder, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. ”You think?“

“Of course.”

Her eyes gleamed for a moment. “Well, thank you,” she said and took his arm. “And now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I want to know everything about what you have been up to these last few years.”

She waved for a servant to bring her a fresh glass of wine and refill Solas’s cup at the same time, then they wandered off, arms still linked, and made good use of their time by catching up. He told her about his work with Shivanas and Mirthavhen at the All-Mother’s tower. It had been quiet work but she didn’t envy him for it. “It is hard work,” she said as they had their glasses refilled once more. “Matters of the heart are so much more complex than… well, anything, really.”

Then it was Felani’s turn to tell him about her latest work. Her eyes were bright as the sun as she told him about the Sonallium, the great edifice Sylaise was planning to build for June as a wedding gift. Felani was proud of the contribution she was making, as she had been working with the Master of Crafts for centuries and knew everything he and his smiths would need to create new wonders.

“It seems like a great opportunity,” Solas said and took a sip. 

“Indeed,” she agreed and squeezed his arm. “It feels good to flex a little, serve my purpose.” Then she gave a content sigh and gazed up toward the crystal ceiling above. The sky was getting darker now, the evening dousing the Sun Spire in myriad colors. It seemed like they were all encompassed by a warm, sheltering fire. “I hope it will be enough,” she muttered, her voice low, almost dreamily.

“Enough for what?”

“To become June’s high keeper.”

Solas frowned for a moment. The People had merely begun to prepare that conquest of the worlds, with each Evanuris picking champions to venture out into the wilds and establish new settlements. Each group of travelers would be led by a keeper, tasked with caring for the People and bringing about the dream of Elvhenan as Mythal and Elgar’nan had told them to do. Each of the keepers would be in the care of another, the high keeper, who in turn was tasked to give counsel and take serious matters before their respective Evanuris. They were their representatives in a way and would be chosen even more carefully than the scouting parties themselves.

Somehow, Solas should have known that Felani was not aiming to become anything less than June’s high keeper. She had been working with the Master of Crafts since the founding of Arlathan. No one, save perhaps Sylaise, knew the man as intimately as Felani did.

“I’m sure he’s well aware of your worth,” Solas said reassuringly and gave her a wry smile. “June has always relied on you. He knows what you’re capable of. Sylaise, too, as it seems.”

“Yes.” She sighed again. “But it will take time. I doubt they will appoint the high keepers before Winter’s End, not with the latest…” She spun one hand round and round, looking for the right word, “revelations and all.”

“True.” Solas let his eyes wander over the gathered elvhen in the hall. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find that everyone in the hall has been talking about the child tonight.”

Felani nodded, then slowed her pace and came to a halt. Solas followed suit, turning slightly to look at her. There was an air of unease about her that he couldn’t quite place.

“And what about you?” Felani said, wiping away her discomfort with a grand gesture. “Will you be Mythal’s high keeper?”

“I will not.”

“What?”

Solas laughed.

“I will not take up the position as her high keeper,” he explained merely, nodding towards Mirthavhen and Shivanas who had stuck their heads together, whispering to each other. “Shivanas will have that honor. You might remember her. She used to serve as a spirit of duty in the tower during the war. She is better suited to be high keeper than me. And she will have a confidant in Mirthavhen as high priest. I’m sure they will make a great team.”

“I see,” said Felani slowly. “So what will you do in this new age?”

Solas cast a glance over to the high-table where Mythal was still sitting. Elgar’nan was holding her hand as he spoke to her, bent forward as if talking about an urgent matter. 

“I will be…” The words trailed off as Solas searched for the right expression. “Well, I guess you could call me an advisor, although I remain, technically speaking, one of Mythal’s personal servants. Something akin to a chamberlain, maybe.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Felani pressed her lips together for a moment, prompting Solas to look at them. He wondered if they still tasted as good as he remembered.

“You don’t seem overly impressed,” he said with a chuckle.

“That’s not it,” she said in a defensive tone. “I just assumed that you… would play a bigger role after your achievements in the war.”

The smile on Solas’s face turned sour. His achievements in the war. Most days, he didn’t even call them that. Yes, he had suggested raising Arlathan into the sky, but how many had died in the battle that had followed? How many more had lost limbs, their health, their will to live in the process? The weeks of painful recovery in which Mythal and Anaris dosed him with titan’s blood so he could grow his arm back had certainly dampened his feeling of accomplishment. Serving in the All-Mother’s tower and giving guidance to those who had prayed there had felt more like repenting most of the time.

“Let’s not talk about such things,” he suggested and let go of her arm. Instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it softly, reassuringly. “This is a night for celebration after all.

Before Felani got a chance to reply, a flute player coaxed a high-pitched tone out of his instrument and drew everyone’s attention. Conversations died down, laughter was cut off abruptly. At the high table, Sylaise rose to her feet and raised her hands. She clapped them slowly – once, twice, three times – and the singers and dancers with her vallaslin that had been made to provide a musical background began to move eagerly. They began to usher people away, pushing back sofas and couches and cushions to make room before the high table. Solas caught a few disgruntled remarks, but most were silenced with another glass of wine. In a few moments, a crowd had gathered around the free space before the high table to gawk at the singers and dancers. Soon after, the steady beating of a drum rang out. It was accompanied by the sound of a mandolin and flute that joined together in a soft melody. People squealed and clapped with glee when they recognized the tune. It was a happy song, perfect for dancing.

It didn’t take long for the first elvhen to join the dancers in a roundelay. Their gowns and dresses and robes fluttered as they whirled merrily around each other, going through the various patterns of the dance.

Before he knew it, another smile had spread across Solas’s face. Listening to the music, seeing the people dance… it made him happy. Or maybe their joy just reached him through the Beyond, kindling a sense of pleasure in him. There was no way to be perfectly certain. And then again, did it really matter?

He emptied his glass once more and set it aside on one of the nearby tables. Felani’s eyes went wide when he turned and snatched her cup away as well. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t finished yet.”

Solas didn’t mind her protest. Instead, he smiled even wider and held out a hand to her.

“Would you care to dance with me?”

Felani gaped at him. It was one of the very rare occasions on which Solas had seen her speechless. He should make sure to remember it. It would be years before he would catch her off-guard again.

“I, um…”, she stammered.

“Yes?”

To his surprise, a soft reddish color blossomed on her cheeks. She glanced over to the dancers, threading her fingers through her hair, then back at him. “Dancing is not exactly my area of expertise. I’m more blades and fist fights, you know.”

Solas drew himself upright and took a step towards her. He uncurled her fingers from a strand of hair and held them gently.

“In that case, I advise that you follow my lead,” he said with a lopsided grin. “If you could bring yourself to do so, that is. I know how much you like to be in charge. From _very_ personal experience, no less.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, amber eyes locked with grey ones. Solas opened his mind to the Beyond, feeling a rush of excitement flooding in. Most of it came from the dancing elvhen, but he could also feel Felani in there. Composure, happiness, a fraction of self-doubt and… affection. His heart began hammering. There was no doubt that she sensed his emotions too. 

“Are you flirting with me, Solas?”

Her voice was low, her eyelids fluttering. He took her other hand as well, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles without looking away.

“Only if it’s working.”

Her brows rose for an instant, then she began snicker. Solas felt a wave of joy rippling through the Beyond as her shoulders shook with laughter. It was the most wonderful thing he had heard in years.

“Well, _in that case_ ,” she said and nodded towards the dancers, “lead on.”

Solas grinned at her as he led her over to the cheering crowd. The band was just finishing their current tune and the people around clapped enthusiastically. There was a bit of shuffling as new dancers streamed onto the dance floor, Felani and Solas among them. They took up position among the crowd, standing slightly sideways to each other as all the others, their hands meeting in the air. From the corner of his eye, Solas saw Mythal leaning forward in her chair. Strands of silver hair danced and dangled around her face as she regarded him intently.

Solas’s attention snapped back to Felani when the musicians intoned a new song. The rhythm was slow, delicate, accompanied by the wavering tune of a flute and harp. Then the remaining musicians picked up the slow thrumming beat. Soon after, the singers began vocalizing and the dancers began to move. 

Solas’s eyes never left Felani’s as they stepped around each other, in keeping with the other dancers.

_A clouded dream on an earthly night_ _  
_ _Hangs upon the crescent moon;_

A woman’s voice rose over the chanting of the other musician’s, humming more than actually singing. The words were soft and soothing, rippling in the Beyond as a delicate wave. Solas could feel it all around him. With his mind wide open, he could see specters of light dancing and churning around Felani, himself, around everyone. Glimmers of dreams and hopes rising up from the Deepest Fade to be made real.

_A voiceless song in an ageless light_ _  
_ _Sings at the coming dawn._

The song went on and Solas allowed the melody to seep into his soul. He immersed himself in it like he would in the Beyond and allowed it to carry his worries and sorrows away. Soon, he had lost track of time, gliding and whirling around Felani. They danced and sang along to the more familiar tunes, sometimes joining their fellow dancers in a round with switching partners, before coming together again. They held each other and laughed until they had both run out of breath.

The musicians reached a crescendo in their current tune and Solas pulled Felani towards him. She giggled, slightly staggering, and bumped into him. Instinctively, he reached around her waist to support her and flashed a smile at her. She laid her hands on his shoulders, her face barely an inch from his. Solas could smell her familiar scent, taste her heavy breath. Felani’s eyes met his, attentive, careful.

Solas felt his heart jump into his throat. It would be so easy to kiss her. A little pull, a slight tilt of the head, and their lips would meet.

Around them, the crowd began clapping and cheering for the musicians. Felani smiled and slipped away to join the thunderous applause. Solas sucked in a sharp breath, forcing himself to focus on the here and now, and brought his hands up to clap himself. Still, he could hardly hear the roaring noise around him, so loud was the rush of blood in his ears.

Felani’s eyes gleamed as she turned to him once more and took his arm. “Let’s get something to drink,” she said and started to lead him away from the dance floor and to one of the servants. They fetched themselves new drinks and toasted to each other, both a bit breathy, and watched the remaining dancers whirl to a new tune. It was then that Andruil rose from her seat at the high table and held out a hand to Ghilan’nain. The pale woman stared up at the huntress for a moment, mouth agape, but then she took her hand and let Andruil guide her towards the dancing crowd. Elvhen and spirits shuffled out of the way to make room for the two Evanuris and the musicians waited for their command. Andruil called for a slow serenade and shifted into a proud stance as the music started. Ghilan’nain straightened her back and followed the huntress’s example. They stood sideways to each other, one arm stretched out to the other, their fingers barely touching, and started to glide around each other to the rhythm of the song. It was a graceful display, Solas had to admit.

Beside him, Felani let out a sigh and took a particularly long swig from her wine. 

“Look at them,” she said in a low voice. “They move like they belong together. Like they’re one.”

“You sound as if you envy them.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Truly?” Solas asked. He hadn’t expected Felani to be capable of jealousy or envy for that matter.

She tossed him a quick glance, her free hand threading through her long dark hair to rearrange it on her shoulder. 

“Andruil was a spirit of ambition once, too. Did you know that?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Spirits like us have a peculiar temper,” she explained, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “It is hard for others to keep up with us or to understand our desire to do more, but Andruil has seemed to find a match in Ghilan’nain. It’s a rare sight, even to me.”

_Or maybe Andruil sees in her just another thing to bring to her knees,_ Solas thought to himself. _And once she is done with Ghilan’nain, she will start looking for new prey._

“Times are changing,” he said instead. “Who knows what the future will hold for any of us? Now that the worst is over, we might all find someone to complement us. Or if not that, maybe a purpose that helps us realize our full potential.”

Felani looked at him for a long moment. Solas tried to capture an inkling of her thoughts in the Beyond but the collective revelry around him made it near impossible to single out an individual’s feelings anymore.

“Is everything alright?”

She smiled and reached for his hand. With a slight tug, she pulled him closer. Solas felt his breath catch as she brushed her nose against his cheek.

“You worry too much,” she whispered, her breath warm and pleasant against the side of his face. Her lips wandered along the line of his jaw until they reached his ear, sparking a warm tingling sensation that spread from his neck over his entire body.

“Possibly,” Solas replied in a hollow voice. She put him off his stride far too easily, that much was certain.

“There is something I need to take care of,” she breathed. “But I promise I’ll be back. Don’t run off without me, yes?”

“Never.”

Her lips remained at his ear for a few more moments, each breath on his skin causing a new ripple of excitement. Then she slipped away and the gap between them felt like an abyss he was desperate to cross. Solas watched her as she blended in with the crowd, his heart thundering mercilessly against his ribcage.

He helped himself to another glass of wine to calm his nerves, and then another. The heavy blend of fruits and berries on his tongue soothed him and he soon found himself smiling to himself as he watched the dancing crowd. Their cheering became a steady backdrop to his thoughts.

Solas was emptying his drink another time when a tall figure in white robes emerged from the crowd and moved toward him. He blinked in confusion, wondering if he might have been drinking too much, when he recognized Geldauran. The healer walked so gracefully that he seemed to glide over the crystal floor.

Solas squared his shoulders and nodded as a way of greeting.

“Solas,” Geldauran said and gifted him with the slightest of smiles. “All on your own for once. What a pleasant surprise. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“You have?” Solas asked, regarding the healer once more. They had barely talked since Geldauran and the others had returned from the war. Even as Solas had recovered in the halls of healing, it had been Anaris who had tended to his wounds. And since his letter had gone unanswered, he had simply assumed that Geldauran wanted nothing to do with him any longer.

So why did he want to talk now?

Solas waved for one of the servants to bring Geldaraun something to drink but the healer stopped them with a small gesture. 

“No, thank you,” he said. “I’m fine as it is.”

The servants did as the Evanuris asked, mumbling to each other as they slinked into the background.

“What, then, can I do for you?” Solas asked and resisted the urge to down the rest of his drink in one long swig.

The smile on Geldauran’s face widened as he came to stand beside Solas.

“The pleasure of your company will suffice,” the healer retorted and let his gaze wander around the people in the hall. “Such a merry gathering, don’t you think?”

“It is,” Solas said.

They stood there for a while, both watching and pondering their own thoughts. It was a strange feeling, Solas had to admit. They hadn’t been this close to each other in hundreds of years and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. All those days working side by side in the halls of healing came back to him, vivid as they ever had been. It was hard to believe how much time had passed, how much had happened since that fateful day Andruil had come to bring Solas to the All-Mother’s tower.

He took another sip from his wine.

“If you keep drinking like that, that formidable body of yours won’t thank you for it,” Geldauran said with a smile.

“I know,” Solas replied.

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because, maybe, I’m not as clever as everybody makes me out to be.”

Geldauran gave a cheerful snort, the kind of heartfelt laughter that Solas had often heard back in the days before his Passage.

“So that has not changed about you,” the healer said. “Good.”

Solas frowned. “Should it have?”

“The Passage changes everyone,” Geldaruan explained, “whether they like it or not. Once we are entrapped in our bodies, we have altered the way we perceive the world and our place in it.”

“True.”

He had learned that particular lesson himself once he had drawn his first breath as an elvhen. Parts of the Beyond that had been so incredibly easy to reach as a spirit had suddenly been out of his reach. He had felt severed from an essential part of himself while being overwhelmed by the sensation of his new reality.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Solas said, “why have you come here, Geldauran?”

“I have already told you. I was only seeking the pleasure of your company.” The healer wiggled his head slightly. “And to thank you for that letter you sent me all those years ago. I know I haven’t responded and I apologize.”

_So that is what this is truly about._

“There is nothing to forgive,” Solas said. “I can see how my actions would have troubled you.”

The healer inhaled slowly, his posture growing stiffer as he did it.

“You should know that I didn’t join Mythal in order to hurt you,” he continued. “Or that I’m not thankful for what you and your brothers have done for me. You have been my first friends among the People and I still consider you as such. Without your guidance, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

“That is good to hear,” said Geldauran and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off the healer’s shoulders. “Then you should know that I’ve never stopped caring about your well-being, Solas, even after you’ve pledged yourself so willingly to the All-Mother.”

Solas caught himself gaping at Geldauran after a fraction of a second and forced his mouth shut. “You have?”

“Look who it is!”

Felani’s voice drifted towards them, loud and booming over the noise of the crowd and the music. She walked towards them at a steady pace, a big grin spread across her face. When she reached them, her eyes flicked over to Solas for a moment before she flung her arms around Geldauran and planted a wet, smacking kiss on his cheek. The healer growled and Solas chuckled, amused by the healer’s disgruntled face.

“Stop it, woman!” Geldauran snarled as he peeled Felani’s arms from his shoulder. “You know I don’t like this kind of open affection.”

She let go and stepped away, laughing at him.

“Sorry,” Felani said without so much as a hint of remorse in her voice. “When I saw you standing there all growly and stiff, I couldn’t refuse.”

Geldauran gave a low grunt as he brushed over his cheek with the back of his hand. “You are drunk and I forgive you,” he retorted. “But don’t do it again. If you want to salivate over someone, I’m sure Solas here is willing to assist. The two of you seemed quite taken with each other tonight.”

Solas coughed and turned his face away from Geldauran, taking a long draught from his wine. Felani, on the other hand, didn’t seem nearly as embarrassed at the healer’s remark. She crossed her arms in front of her.

“You’re such a sunshine, Geldauran, truly” she said, still grinning. “Reminds me of the good old days.”

“You mean those days when you and those fools we now call Arcane Warriors beat each other up in your spare time?”

“Exactly those.” Felani sighed dramatically. “Good times.”

Geldauran’s features softened and he let out a low chuckle. 

“I can’t deny that you put on quite the show,” he admitted. “But those were simpler times, too, I’m afraid. We cannot afford to waste our time so idly now.”

“True,” Felani agreed. “All the more reason to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

She flashed a smile at Solas, that familiar challenging gaze in her eyes.

“I can hardly argue with that,” he said, working the words around a lump in his throat that hadn’t been there a few moments before.

“In that case,” Geldauran said, his eyes wandering from Solas to Felani and back again, “I should leave you to it.” The healer reached for Solas’s arm and laid his hand on it. “We can continue our talk another time, my friend. If your duties allow it, come visit me in the halls of healing.”

“Surely,” Solas said hurriedly. “Of course!”

Geldauran bowed his head, a serene smile on his lips, and glided away with the same grace he had displayed before. Solas stared after him for a moment while his mind processed the events. Hundreds of years had passed and all it had taken to mend the divide between them had been a few earnest words spoken in privacy. It was an odd feeling, but also a pleasant one. 

He snapped back into reality when Felani slipped one arm around his waist and drew him closer. “You’re okay?”

“What? Yes!” He blinked. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said in a soft voice and nuzzled the side of his face. “Because there is something I want to show you.” 

* * *

Until that day, there had only been a precious few who had ever seen the Dawn Garden. It had been the All-Father’s personal pleasure ground, stretching out all the way from the Sun Spire to the Eastern edge of the city. Walls of gilded marble and crystal surrounded the garden from all sides to keep trespassers out and the exotic creatures that roamed the park in. Tonight, however, it had been opened to the Evanuris and their carefully selected entourage and so it was no surprise to find spirits and elvhen roaming the paths between the flowerbeds that led further and further away from the Sun Spire.

Night had fallen when Felani led Solas out into the Dawn Garden. Yet, it wasn’t dark. High above them, a milky band of stars flecked the sky and the Sun Spire itself gave off a soft glow as if setting free the sunlight it had captured throughout the day. Crystal lanterns lined the walkways that carried shining balls of energy to help the visitors find their way. Their soft yellow light lined the petals of flowers and the leaves of bushes and trees swaying in the warm summer wind.

Solas held Felani’s hand as they walked down a gravel path that led further away from the Sun Spire, his fingers curling gingerly around hers. He had been thinking of something clever to say but not much came to mind. The night was beautiful, as was the garden, and Felani. A poet might have had words to suffice, but he was at a complete loss. All he could do was to take in all the vivid colors, the flecks of light, and keep them in his mind until he was able to recreate them in a painting, and even then, he wasn’t sure he could do it justice.

When they reached the end of the main path, Felani turned left and led him into an area of the park that was more akin to a forest than a garden. Dense foliage closed in around them, the lush canopy above them blocking out the starlight. The sound of music and mumbled conversations was drowned out by the song of nightbirds up on the branches and the cries of other creatures hidden out of sight.

“Where are you taking me?” Solas asked in a low voice.

Felani presented him with a knowing smile. “Have a little patience. We’re almost there.”

She reached down and pulled the hem of her gown up, then led him astray, away from the narrow path. With a frown, Solas followed her, careful not to trample upon the lush flowers covering the ground around them. 

Soon after, they reached a clearing in the cultivated forest that was surrounded by trees to three sides. The fourth ended abruptly where the ground dropped several feet before it went on and then dropped again. Solas could make out the artificial terraces beneath, stretching out before and beneath them to the edge of the Dawn Garden and the very city of Arlathan.

“That is magnificent,” Solas muttered, gaping at the view. “How did you know about this place?”

Felani let go of his hand and strode to the side, dropping the hem of her gown again and reaching down.

“I saw maps of the garden,” she said. “June helped the All-Father a great deal with the layout of the park. Some of my own apprentices worked on the lanterns you saw on the main paths.”

“I see,” Solas said, still bewildered by the view. He had always known that the world was an expanse and that it would take years, decades, if not centuries to explore and map it properly, but up here, he got an idea of how vast it truly was. 

It was the pop of a cork that brought his attention back to the clearing. He blinked and looked at Felani who was fumbling with a bottle of wine. Only then did he notice the arrangement around her. Blankets and furs covered the ground, a basket full of food and drink resting beside them. Crystal lanterns with shimmering motes inside gave off a warm glow.

Felani smiled when she caught him staring at the scene. “There was a spirit of fortitude in the All-Father’s service that owed me a favor,” she said in a tone as if that explained everything and filled two cups with wine.

“Ah,” Solas muttered, still a little bewildered.

She handed him one of the cups and they toasted shortly. Then they stood there silently, looking over the edge of the city and to the world beyond.

“Another one?” Felani asked after they had both finished their drinks.

Solas shook his head. “I think I‘ve had enough for now.” 

She shrugged, took the cup out of his hand and set it down on the ground beside the wine bottle along with her own. When she straightened herself again, Solas reached for her hands and pulled her closer. She smiled at him and brushed her fingers over his knuckles. Solas gave a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving her face. Her wonderful, familiar face.

“I know I should have said this earlier,” she said in a low voice, “but it’s good to see you. I know that this period of calm and reflection was necessary after the war. But I missed some action, some _fun._ ”

“So that’s what I am to you?” he asked jokingly. “A bit of fun?”

She groaned and nudged him. “You know exactly what I mean!” 

“Of course I do,” Solas said with a smile. “And I have missed you, too.”

“Is that so?” Felani asked. She tilted her head, that familiar look of defiance in her eyes. “And how much did you miss me exactly?”

“Well, I guess I could show you,” he said.

She smiled and took a step closer, her hands sliding smoothly over his chest. “Please do,” she purred as her arms curled around his shoulders. “I insist.”

Solas drew her even closer, his hands resting on her waist. They regarded each other with their eyes half-closed, the sweet taste of their mouths just out of reach. Then he leaned in and let his lips brush against hers. Felani welcomed him eagerly and opened her mouth to invite him in. He let his tongue flick against hers, gently at first, determined to enjoy the moment to its fullest, but his resolve dwindled quickly. Tempted by the sweet taste of her mouth, he kissed her passionately and tightened his grip around her waist.

Felani responded to his fire with her own, opening her mind to the Beyond and allowing him to feel the excitement surging through her. She embraced him, sighing softly against his lips.

“Missed me that much, hm?,” she muttered when they finally let go. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of their kiss.

Solas chuckled and leaned his forehead gently against hers. “Maybe even a bit more than that.”

“You are one hopeless romantic,” she breathed. “I like it.”

Solas forgot all comprehension of time when they kissed again and they held each other without a care in the world. Forgotten was all the hardship, their duties, and all the plans for the future. All that mattered was them, right there, and nothing else.

Felani blinked when he pulled away from her. He reached up, stroking her cheek and letting his fingers wander down the soft curve of her neck. There was a soft glow to her face that he hadn’t noticed before. How could he have missed it?

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Solas stared at her for a long moment. What was he thinking about? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been for quite some time. Being with her always left his heart and mind in a state of uproar. _What do you want me to say?_ he wondered. _That I can’t think straight when we’re together?_ _That I have no resolve around you? That I think I love you?_

That last thought caught him off guard. It had never before occurred to him that he had, indeed, fallen for her despite his intention not to. He had never before loved someone, or not like this at any rate. How could he be sure? And yet, he was…

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Solas said at last.

A part of him expected her to burst into laughter, to call him an utter fool. Felani had never been one for romantic entanglements. She had told him as much the first time they had been together like this. But to his surprise, she just smiled and kissed him tenderly.

“Maybe not forever,” she said, eyes glimmering. “But the night is still young.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Back to the main work »](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21380173/)   
>  [Lyrics taken from "The Mystic's Dream" by Loreena McKennit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFAfWH_CKVw)


End file.
